Underestimated
by Majinboo
Summary: Finally added new chapters! Newsies all grown up and still fighting to survive. --new readers: it's slow in the beginning, but please bear with it!
1. Have to start somewhere...

She'd seen that newsie before. He sold newspapers in Central Park where she took the children. But she never took him to be a hero. When Christian swam out too far, she'd never seen anyone move as fast as that skinny newsboy as he jumped in the lake to steady the child. She was in up to her waist, but with all her skirts getting caught between her legs, she would probably be the lake's next victim if she'd chosen to wade in further.  
  
She watched the newspaper boy emerge from the sparkling green water. It was one of those fine days, the type of pleasant weather that one wouldn't expect unpleasant things to happen in. If only she hadn't been so wrapped up in trying to capture the day in one of her sketches, then this mess might have been avoided! That poor child! The boy's savior trudged through the shallow water carrying him in his arms.  
  
"Is he alright?!" she yelled, waving her arms and tripping over her heavy wet skirts. He didn't answer. He carefully placed Christian onto the beach. Folks gathered around them.  
  
"Is anyone a doctor?" someone yelled.  
  
"Is he alive?"  
  
"Oh! That poor child!"  
  
The world was spinning while she located Christian's little sister, picked her up, and pushed their way to the center of the crowd. The newsie was breathing into the child's mouth. Oh Lord please save him! Christian coughed. The crowd sighed in unison. But she bawled. She grabbed the newsie and hugged him muttering thanks and promises, then turned to grab Christian, and in attempt to stand up with both children, nearly toppled over. Steadying herself on a park bench, she tried to calm herself and the children, who were, by then, pretty shaken up.  
  
"Please don't cry, Miss Sadie," Christian begged as he threw his small arms around her neck. His sister, Anna, squirmed out of her grip to return to her sandcastles. She was too young to understand that her brother nearly drowned because her nanny wasn't paying enough attention.  
  
"So, Sadie it is. This yer chap?" the newsie approached her.  
  
"Yes," Sadie stammered, realizing what a pitiful sight they were in soaking wet clothes and tear streaked faces. Ladies do not cry in public places. She pulled out her handkerchief, even though it too was damp, and wiped her face, then Christian's. "…And no, you see, I'm his governess, and apparently not a very good one at that!" And of course, she could hold in her tears no longer and buried her face in her handkerchief.  
  
"There, there…" Christian said, obviously mocking the way Sadie comforted him when he cried. She could help but crack a smile. What a tough little boy.  
  
"Looks like da kid is gonna make it," the newspaper boy shoved his hand towards her. "They call me Mush, and yer Sadie da govaness."  
  
"Yes. Eh hem." Calm down! It's over! "Here, let me buy the rest of your papers, it's the least I can do after you saved his life. No, here's some money to go buy yourself some dinner too. Oh dear! You're a hero, you deserve something better." She bit her bottom lip and tried to think of something she had to give.  
  
"Nah, calm yourself. You'se shakin real bad. I bet yer freezing. You should go home and get dried off. This hea kid looks like he needs some dry clothes," Mush said as he scruffed Christian's hair. Christian shot him an evil look as if to say that Mush was treading on his territory. "Hey now kid, I jus saved yer life!"  
  
"You are right, we should be getting cleaned up. Thank you so much for your help. If there is anything I can do to repay you, let me know."  
  
"You can let me walk ya back!"  
  
Sadie pulled Anna away from her sandcastles and put her arm around Christian. "I would be honored if you would escort us home"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Mush had walked this road before, but never once thought he'd be on good terms with the kinds of people who live in these huge townhouses. Sadie walked next to him pushing a baby carriage with the little girl in it, and the little boy followed closely behind picking up stones and throwing them at Mush's feet. He tried to ignore the boy's ungratefulness, and think of something interesting to talk about. She was a governess, she was of a higher class of people, she didn't have to live in a crowded apartment with eight other people. And she had a paying job. Mush had to move out of the lodging house when he turned eighteen (which is why he turned seventeen two years in a row), but finding a job between all the depressions and recessions, was not an easy thing to do.  
  
"So do you do anything besides sell papers?" Sadie interrupted his thoughts. She had a thick British accent that was so proper. It made him feel even more so like a street rat.  
  
"Uh… Yeah. Well, sorta. I box."  
  
"Like those matches in the streets?! You do that?"  
  
"Yeah. I'se pretty good too, me friend Race got me into it. Said we'd make a killin in the business. He's what you'd call a bookie I guess. But dis month, we didn't win nothing, so back to sellin papes fer me." Damn, why did he just tell a lady that he's a gambling man?? Now she's never gonna talk to him again! Stupid!  
  
"I'm going to be a boxer too!" Christian announced as he grabbed Mush's hand.  
  
"Wow, it didn't take him long to warm up to you!" She threw a spectacular grin his way. She was fairly average looking, but between her accent, her long dark red hair, and that smile, Mush couldn't help but be nervous. Her curly auburn hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned down to face Christian. "Now, we are not going to mention boxing matches to your mother and father, understand? They will not let us continue our afternoon walks if they think I'm corrupting their children," she explained to Mush.  
  
"Sorry"  
  
"No! Don't be sorry. I was trying to hint that I wouldn't really mind if we saw you on another afternoon walk," she laughed. "This is our stop," she lifted the little girl from the carriage. A servant emerged from the house and carried the carriage up the steps into the house. He returned to retrieve the girl, and comment on the state of disrepair Sadie and the boy were in their wet clothes. Sadie turned and nodded at Mush. So proper. "It was lovely, and remember, if there's any way I can repay you. You know where to find me." He thought of a good way she could repay him…. She turned and led the boy into that big stone house, and disappeared. 


	2. Here goes

(For everyone's info, I really wanted to use Jay Gould in this story because I find him fascinating. But I didn't want to offend his family, so I changed the names of his children, and in laws, and basically made up all the characters in this story to suit me, because, well, this is FICTION. So please no one take offense, I know it's not accurate.)  
  
  
  
Hiding the near-drowning incident from Christian's parents was too easy. The seven year old boy seemed plenty excited about keeping their new friendship with Mush a secret, so the way they met him fell under this understanding. This was very relieving to Sadie, who was fairly new to the country and the job was given to her as a favor. She wasn't particularly fond of New York, but one has to do what one must when she needs to eat.  
  
Sadie's employers would most likely never learn of her negligence at the park from anyone else, simply because they were never there. The children's mother, Eliza Kennington, the Countess of Castellane, had three children in all. The youngest was still an infant and was with his mother in France, where she spent the majority of her time. She and her husband, the Comte de Castellane, were in the midst of a troubled marriage; not that this had anything to do with their separation from their children. The exceptionally rich have the tendency to let others raise their children for them since they aren't forced to themselves. This suited Sadie just fine, as she needed the employment, and she came from a family of higher servants: butlers, governesses, and gardeners.  
  
The Countess was the source of money in this household, or so it was rumored. Her father was Jay Gould, the most hated man in America, the railroad genius, the stock market wizard, one of the richest men in the world until his death a few years earlier. Sadie was certainly a lucky girl for this arrangement.  
  
After tucking the children in bed, Sadie went downstairs for a bite to eat. She stopped short, hearing her name being spoken behind the closed kitchen door.  
  
"She can't keep her legs closed they say. They say that's how come she lost her job in England!" the first voice whispered.  
  
"I thought she worked for royalty. That her great grandma raised Queen Elizabeth," said the second.  
  
"The Virgin Queen! Apparently she didn't get her promiscuity from her mother's side!" the voices giggled. "They say…"  
  
The maid's mouth clamped shut when Sadie entered. They both nervously turned and pretended to be busy. Sadie reached in a cabinet and grabbed a small portion of cheese and began slicing herself some bread. Casually, she said, "You know, it wasn't my sleeping with the Prince of Wales that got me dumped in America, it was what I did to him when he replaced me…" Both women froze. The first one turned.  
  
"The Prince of Wales…" she started suspiciously.  
  
"It's really not all that far fetched me dearies. Half the ladies in London have had the honor of seeing his bed at one time or another." The maids just stared, finally speechless. With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room.  
  
She headed out the back door to enjoy her meal in the solitude of the garden. As always, the city was never quiet, but the high stone walls kept out anything too disturbing; minus the stench of course. She finished her evening snack and looked around. It was nice to be alone for once. How on earth did those floosies hear about her situation at Windsor? Apparently rumors are strong enough to swim across the bloody Atlantic.  
  
Just then she heard a rustling in the shrubbery as if some kind of animal had simply fallen into it.  
  
"OUCH, shit!" Well that certainly wasn't a cat… She grabbed a garden hoe, which was the closest thing to a weapon at arm's length, and approached the dancing plantlife.  
  
"Who's there?! Come on out er I'll beat ya with this here hoe!"  
  
The intruder burst out laughing.  
  
"Now ye laughing at me?! I'll beat ya anyhow!" She lifted up the garden hoe and nearly slammed the newsboy on his head before she recognized his face in the moonlight. She tried to swing the tool to the side, but the rusty blade still caught him in his left shoulder. He screeched.  
  
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She dropped the hoe and grabbed at him.  
  
"Why're ya goin around swinging garden tools at me? Cried the wounded young man, "after I saved yer job!"  
  
"And why are ye sneaking around in me bosses garden fer?" she snapped back, "I shoulda put a gash bigger than that in yer fat head!" She reached for the garden tool again, but he dove for it, and stood up brandishing it in front of him as protection. Sadie smiled. Mush looked at her suspiciously and lowered the hoe. "How's yer shoulder?"  
  
"Not too bad," he said as he examined his bruised collar bone, "nuttin' I can't handle." He straightened up and grinned at his opponent, "So ya happy ta see me er what?"  
  
Sadie snatched the hoe from him and grabbed his hand. Worried that someone would come out to the garden after all their commotion, she led him to a garden bench shielded by shadows. She leaned forward and whispered, "What do ya think you're doing here?"  
  
Mush stuttered out the beginnings of a few sentences, then realizing that they all included spying on her, he gave up and planted the kind of kiss on her lips that she would never forget. Unbelievable. American men can kiss! After the kiss came a most awkward moment, where, as a lady, she should push him away, and shun further advances. Oh, but he had a precious face. He leaned forward again and kissed her lightly on the neck. She leaned her head back and met his next kiss. She had such a hard time playing the lady in these situations… His fingers brushed over her neck and chin. Chills ran down her back and she felt the goose bumps rise on her arms. His hand ran down her arm and he intermingled his fingers with hers. They looked at each other briefly; she couldn't figure out what color his eyes were in the darkness, but they were gorgeous. Sadie reached her arms around his neck and kissed him harder.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Jacob Castellane had returned to New York for something like a vacation. He could only spend so much time with that wife of his. He could only pretend to love that dog for so long before he needed to get away.  
  
After pouring himself some brandy, he returned to the window to see if they were still out there. He had been startled to hear raised voices in his back yard and had gone to the window to see what the commotion was. He'd almost sent someone out there to remove the two from his garden, but things had gotten interesting. They had gone from attacking one another to the kind of lovemaking he only dreamed about. His wife was wretched and just plain ugly, and any other servant or whore he made himself through was not much better.  
  
He strained to see through the darkness as the girl leaned her head back to let that scoundrel kiss her long neck. He swallowed hard when he saw the young man move his hands up her skirt. Someone should stop this. Why should that dirty American peasent be allowed to have what a count cannot?  
  
"James, let the dogs out into the garden." 


	3. tell me if this sucks

Ophelia ran her fingers through her long ebony hair. She read the advertisement over again for probably the fiftieth time.  
  
"No, it says 'ages,' the g sounds like a j in that word," Race enunciated.  
  
"It didn't sound 'at way in de other word!" Ophelia was getting impatient. She leaned closer to Race, hoping he'd notice the cologne she'd dabbed on while in the grocery earlier.  
  
Race sighed. "Read it again."  
  
"Girls Wanted," she read, grinding the g sound, "ages sixteen to twenty. Must be healthy, strong…."  
  
"Stop," he said as he got up from his chair and reached for his ragged brown coat. "The g in 'strong' sounds like the g in 'girl.' But, Opie, I gots to be on me way. Me boy Mush is supposed to fight tomorra, an' I ain't gotta clue where 'e is." Then he mumbled something about a bet he couldn't afford to lose. Race started for the front door of the boarding house. "See ya later Missus Donnelly," he yelled to the mistress of the house. "Bye kid," he winked at Ophelia and clucked his tongue before disappearing into the darkness.  
  
Ophelia slammed her fist onto the kitchen table, and then buried her face into her hands. He was always so preoccupied with his not-so-clever attempts to become fabulously wealthy, that he didn't even notice her! Her attempt to make him jealous with that ad didn't phase him at all. Even the jasmine perfume she stole failed to capture his attention.  
  
He had told her that the mail order bride thing sounded like a good plan. He said that she should go out west. His exact words were "yer tough, you could tame all em cowboys. 'Sides, ain't no reason to stay hea." She didn't remember what he said immediately after that since he had already reached into her chest, tore out her beating heart, threw it on the floor, and proceeded to stomp on it. It seemed her little test to determine his true feelings worked a little too well.  
  
She pushed her chair out from under the table, got up, and stomped into the hall where the looking glass was. Twisting her too-straight hair up into a big knot and holding up, she examined her face, one side then the other. Ophelia thought she was pretty, perhaps a little too skinny, and her nose was too big, although no one agreed with her about her big nose.  
  
Mrs. Donnelly waddled by in her oversized calico skirt, "Ophelia, precious, come in an' finish up dese dishes. An' don't ya worry yer purty little face over that street rat. He will only cause ya' sufferin' in da long run."  
  
Ophelia let her hair down and thought about the man who she would marry someday. And how jealous Race would be.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
No one mentioned Sadie's escapades in the garden. Not to her anyway. This time around, she wasn't so bold about her exploits. She couldn't afford to lose this job. She tiptoed around the big townhouse when she didn't have the shield of innocence the children provided. Two days had passed and she couldn't for the life of her figure out who had spied she and Mush in the dark back yard. So she remained suspicious of everyone.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Sir, Peter Gould is downstairs."  
  
"Oh?" the count stuttered, "Thank you." Jacob could never remember the maids' names. Too many homes he guessed, too many servants. Except Sadie. He had found out her name from the butler. It was her name he wished he could forget.  
  
Jacob combed his dark brown hair straight back and buttoned up his embroidered vest. Why was his brother-in-law here? His children were already downstairs when he made his appearance. He patted Christian on the head, and Peter was holding little Anna is his arms.  
  
"Father! Uncle Peter says he'll take me to the horse races!" Christian yelled. Didn't that nanny teach these children to speak quietly? When he was young, he was only allowed to speak when spoken to. That's what he gets for marrying an American woman.  
  
"Good, good," he replied. He didn't care what the child did. "How are you Peter?" The two gentlemen shook hands. Peter wore a black suit with tails, perhaps he had come from a meeting. The Gould men were always up to something. Jacob motioned Peter to the sitting room. "Would you like something to drink? Tea should be served shortly," he offered. They both sat down in matching leather chairs, a marble chessboard sat in between them. The room was paneled in red wood and smelt of expensive cigars.  
  
"No," Peter answered, fingering his waxed mustache. "My sister asked that I come by and make sure her children are fine. And that her husband is alone…" He smiled with his last comment. Jacob couldn't figure out what that smile meant. He wasn't so sure that he was welcome amongst his wife's family anymore, but he was also aware of Peter's waywardness with the ladies.  
  
"Quite alone," he commented, not even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. He looked around for Sadie, but she wasn't anywhere in sight. His children shouldn't be in the sitting room; this was the man's room. Had she taught them anything?  
  
Peter bit off the tip of a cigar. "That's too bad, there are many beautiful ladies in New York." He lit the cigar and took a puff. "Can someone get the governess in here?" he made eye contact with the closest servant, who ran to find her. "Forget the tea, brother, I think I'll have a glass of whiskey."  
  
Sadie entered the room, but she remained close to the walls and silently motioned to the children to come to her. Both children obeyed, and she led them out of the room. "Sadie, have someone else take care of the children tonight. I'd like to have you serve Mr. Gould and I," Jacob commanded. Sadie looked surprised, but quickly collected herself, nodded, and left the room to take the children elsewhere.  
  
Peter gave him and approving smirk. He leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar. "Jacob, I've got some business ventures I'd like to discuss with you." 


	4. men really do suck

Why had he asked her to serve Mr. Gould and himself? Why not the maid or the butler? She took care of children, she didn't pour drinks and lights cigars for rich old men. But Peter Gould and Jacob Castellane weren't exactly old men, they were probably in their late 30's, and both relatively attractive men. Although, the more they drank, the less attractive they became, and they kept on drinking well into the night.  
  
Sadie tried to blend in with the woodwork, wishing she could sit down and rest her legs. The grandfather clock struck eight o'clock; she'd been standing there for nearly four hours just waiting to refill their tumblers with ice and liquor. Their conversation ran a straight line from railroads to money, from the mafia to money, from Mr. Gould's factories to money, and continued on to how to make more money. She wondered if Mr. Gould knew that the count had married his sister for the family's money. But Peter Gould's money and his sister's money were two different entities from the beginning, so maybe he didn't care.  
  
Finally around nine o'clock, Mr. Gould asked for his coat and hat. Sadie fetched them for him. The men made their farewells and Sadie returned to the sitting room to clean up the mess.  
  
"Thank you Sadie," the count stood in the open doorway. She looked up confused. Thank you? Bosses don't thank their servants...  
  
"You're welcome, sir." She said under her breath, not knowing quite how to handle this. He stood awkwardly in the doorway. She tried to ignore his presence, hoping he'd just go away. She tried to empty a heavy glass ashtray, but it slipped out of her hands, spilled onto her skirt, and landed on the wooden floor where it broke in half. Shit! Sadie looked up guiltily. The count turned and left the room without a word.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
He needed some air. Perhaps he had too much whiskey. God he hated whiskey! Such a disgusting American drink. It smells like piss, it burns his throat, and it weakens his mind. Now good Frenchmen drink wine, smooth, sweet, like a good woman. Like that governess...  
  
Jacob wished he could slap himself for those thoughts. He couldn't even place what it was that attracted him to that woman; she was fiercely average looking, with only freckles and that mane of red hair to separate her from every other girl in New York. Perhaps it was that scene in the garden... He wrapped his heavy wool cape around him and headed out, realizing there was no need for this covering on a New York summer night. Cursing, he stepped back into the house. James, the butler, stood waiting to take the cape with that smug look on his face. It took all the strength he could muster not to knock that smirk off his butler's face.  
  
"I've decided not to go out," he muttered, and mounted the stairs. Instead of stopping at his floor, he continued up the stairs to the third floor where the servant's resided. He had never been to this floor before, so he didn't have a clue where to go. He opened the first door he saw. The room was empty. Frustrated, he tried the second. Bingo.  
  
As he burst in, Sadie whirled around; only half dressed, holding her stained skirt in her hands. She attempted to cover herself with the skirt as he stepped in and closed the door.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Mush hadn't heard from Sadie since the day they'd met. He was half afraid to return after the incident with the dogs. Maybe she got scared off, or wasn't allowed to see him again. Thinking about their rendezvous during his matched kept his energy level way up. He was averaging two more rounds per match. Race was so happy after he won the last fight, that he actually kissed him. Naturally, Mush soaked him good for that.  
  
He was almost scared to see her again. He'd been doing so well boxing lately because of his frustration for her, that if he saw her, would it jinx him? Race and he had won so much money over the last week alone that they'd been able to pay their rent, pay off Race's debts, and even buy new clothes. Race had insisted that they'd need suits, so they both bought brand new wool suits tailored for them.  
  
In short, Mush was becoming famous. At least for his fifteen minutes. All of a sudden, his friends came out of the woodwork, he had spending money, and even girls followed him around. He was even visited by the infamous Spot Conlon, who used to reign over the Brooklyn newsies, but was now working his way up in the Irish mafia. Spot's visit was not a friendly one although they had been friends once. He stopped by before a fight to tell Mush that he going down in the 16^th round, or else he would go down to the bottom of the Hudson. Mush chose the 16^th. Luckily, Race bet accordingly. 


	5. here goes again

"Well if it ain't Racetrack Higgins an' `is sidekick Mushy-boy." A handsome young man with sandy hair and a black eyepatch emerged from the crowd at the racetrack and approached Race and Mush.  
  
"Heya Blink! Where ya been hidin'?" Mush asked as he play-punched at their visitor.  
  
"Been keepin' busy. Keepin' da ladies on their toes. Ya know what I'm sayin?!" he laughed, nudging Mush with his elbow. "I'se been hearin' `bout you'se an' yer fightin' Mushy-boy. Seems like ya could make champ dis year."  
  
"He plans on it. Dontcha?" Race interjected. "I got a lot ridin' on this right hook," he said as he poked at Mush.  
  
"An' jus' look at da two a you! What's this you'se wearin'?" Blink asked, suddenly aware that his old clothes didn't quite match up to Race and Mush's new fashion statements.  
  
"If we're gonna get in da buidness, we gotta do it right," Race stated, chin up in the air.  
  
Blink grabbed at his collar and gasped for air. "Oh! I cain't breathe! `Is head's too big! It's sucking up all da air!" He fell to one knee pretending to choke. "Please Mush pop it!"  
  
Mush laughed and punched Race upside the head. "His skull's too thick! Don't know what can break it!"  
  
Race swatted at Mush. "When J.P. Morgan starts borrowin' money from me, then you'se guys won't be laughin' so hard."  
  
"Still planning and plotting to rule the world I see," spoke a smooth feminine voice from behind Race. Blink's one eye bulged when he saw the gorgeous ebony-haired beauty appear.  
  
"Oh, heya Opie," Race sighed. "Blink, this is me pal Opie. Opie, Blink. You know Mush."  
  
Blink grabbed her hand and slowly brought it up to his mouth, "Glad to meet ya," he paused for a second to make eye contact, then he kissed her hand.  
  
"Oh, the dramatic pause!" Mush giggled uncontrollably at Blink. Race rolled his eyes.  
  
"Please, the name is Ophelia," she corrected. "Nice to meet you too." She nodded oh so properly.  
  
Race caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. He turned for a better look. She was wearing dark green skirt, a white silk blouse, and a matching green vest corseted tightly across her chest. Her dark hair was curled and twisted up into a loose bun. "What are ya all dollied up ova?" he demanded.  
  
"Jus' wanted to see what the races are all about," she answered and looked around the crowds non-chalantly.  
  
"Dontcha have a chaperone er somethin'? Ya shouldn't be out alone at da races!" Race asked. He was shocked to see her out without someone, didn't she know how dangerous these parts of the city are?  
  
She turned sharply, utterly embarrassed about what he said in front of everyone. "I am nearly eighteen years old! I can certainly take care of myself!" she snorted. She threw a flirtatious grin at Blink, then winked and strutted off.  
  
Mush mocked Ophelia as she sauntered off. Blink elbowed him, "She winked at me. I could have me some fun tonight!"  
  
Race just stared after her until she disappeared. What did she think she was doing? A pretty girl like her is bound to get into trouble alone...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jacob sat in the box seats at the races. Around him were many of the most influential people in the United States. One was, of course, Peter Gould, another was New York's senator, and a dozen more, but he didn't recognize names. But from what Peter told him, these men alone owned something like 20% of the nations money.  
  
He had bet on the number eight horse, its name was something funny like Murray's Son. The gentlemen sat around smoking and drinking, and talking about their latest interests, the railroads mostly. None of this interested Jacob, which could be why he was broke more often than not. As he puffed on his cigar and pretended to be interested in some fire that had vanquished this man's factory, a beautiful young woman pushed her way through the crowd. Jacob sat forward, not even trying to diguise his interest. The man he was talking to just grunted, "She's a common girl."  
  
"Not common at all," Jacob whispered. He motioned to a nearby servant. "Find out who that girl is. Now." 


	6. Had to involve Spot, just adore him too ...

Timmy Michelson sat at the round table in the corner of the pub with five of his closest friends. The skinny waitress took their orders and came back within minutes to distribute their drinks. He felt somewhat superior being a part of this family, they certainly got better service than everyone else. To his right, she handed Sergio his bourbon on the rocks, then Georgie his vodka cocktail, Mutsy and Danny-boy their brews, and Spot his gin and tonic. As she set Timmy's quart of beer in front of him, he leaned over and smacked Sergio's face for grabbing the waitress' ass.  
  
"I `pologize for my friend here, his mother never taught him how to treat a lady." Timmy winked at her and stuffed a dollar into her hand. "Notice the poor boy is still single," he said as he grabbed Georgie by the wrist and forced up his ringless hand. Georgie was the token pretty boy in the group, dark hair, dark eyes, and dark complexion. He was also the local lady-killer. The waitress just smiled, took the money, and retreated.  
  
Mutsy grunted, which was his way of announcing that he planned on speaking. "So, we's gonna take out that butcher shop tonight if'n he don't pay aw fee?" Timmy smiled half-heartedly, he knew Mutsy was just iching to smack someone around. He had the body of a gorilla, and some would say the brain as well.  
  
"You'se know," Sergio put in, "that we `ave been `dere five times fer it. Dis `ere IS our territory. If'n `e don't like it, `e can move on er get soaked." Sergio was the boss' son. The big joke was why he had a Greek name and he belonged to the most feared and respected Irish family in New York. The boys mostly faked Greek accents when they saw him, and his face would go as red as his hair, and he would attack them every time. His Irish temper never failed, and the boys never grew tired of the joke. Danny-boy was his little brother, and they pretty much resembled each other physically, but Danny's personality was much quieter. He was a listener. Timmy suspected that Danny-boy was planning on taking over the family some day.  
  
Spot was the other quiet one. He was new to the group, but he came with raving reviews about his tomfoolery before he met up with the Mannigan family. Apparently, he was the leader of a tight-knit group of child thieves in Brooklyn, or so the legend went. He never said whether or not it was true. He just smiled his wicked smile, and no one questioned him further. But when he did speak, people jumped, and that's what got him into the band. Spot changed the subject. "Does any a you'se got money on this next match? I'se got anoda tip.." He smiled that wicked grin again. Immediately all five of the others started shouting and calling bids about the next boxing match.  
  
The shouting stopped just as abruptly as it had started. In fact, the whole bar went silent when the tall redhead stepped out of the brilliant light outside and materialized inside the tavern where they could see her. Her done-up hair and lace blouse set her apart from the other women in the bar.  
  
"Looks like somebody's wife is out to get `im," Timmy mused.  
  
"Too bad it's not mine," said Sergio playing with the gold claudah on his ring finger.  
  
The lady looked around. "Stop ya starin'! It ain't like ya's never seen a woman before!" She yelled. "Bring me sumpthin strong," she ordered the bartender and plopped down in a flimsy wooden chair. Once they heard her accent, and saw her fiery temper, they realized her not as a threat, but one of them, and everyone went back to conversation.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sadie slouched over her - whatever it was they gave her to drink--and fumed. Where would she go now? Could she find enough money to return home? Or could she even hope to find another position as a governess?  
  
How was it possible that she lost one job for sleeping with her boss, and another for refusing him? That disgusting bastard!  
  
She was seeing red even when the new man approached her. "What do you want?"  
  
"G'day," he offered her his hand. She ignored it. "Me name is Timmy Michelson. I jus' noticed that you seem a lil' out of sorts. I may be able to help you."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I got invited to a party, Race!" Ophelia was practically floating. "A real classy party at that! A COUNT'S party!"  
  
Race couldn't help but be impressed. But he and his fellow newsies all knew firsthand that the rich were not necessarily the most honorable people. " `At sounds like fun. Maybe me er Mush `ere could escort ya. Ya know, ta be safe."  
  
"Safe? There'll be tons of people there, an' servants an' stuff. I'll be fine," she assured him.  
  
"What's this count's name?" Race asked. Maybe he'd follow her, just in case.  
  
"The Count de Castellane," she answered trying to mock a French accent.  
  
Mush froze. "Heya guys, I... I gotta run. See you'se lata!" And with that he took off out of the racetrack. 


	7. please tell me what yall think!

"So, it's a woman thing..." Timmy pressed her. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.  
  
"No, its not a woman, thing." Sadie was getting noticably pissed. So she swallowed the rest of her drink and waited for the numbness to set in. "So ya gonna buy the lady a drink if'n ya insist on forcin' yerself inta `er personal space?"  
  
"Well, since ya ast. I never want to disappoint a lady," he answered and turned towards the bar. "Especially at that time of the month..." he muttered and held up her empty glass. "Can I get another one of these?" he asked the bartender.  
  
"What was that ya said?"  
  
"I ast fer anoda drink."  
  
"No, afore that."  
  
"I said I dint want ta disappoint a the most stunning woman I've eva seen." Timmy overcompensated. He gave her his best puppydog look, fluttering his sparkling blue eyes at her.  
  
"Ya know, yer really not handsome enough to get away wit' lying like `at."  
  
"And yer attitude isn't worth me lie! Bartender, bring me a quart!"  
  
"Yer the one who `might be able to `elp me'" she mocked  
  
"I've changed me mind," he pouted. "I don't t'ink I wanna `elp ya now." He took a sip of his beer and pretending to not be interested anymore.  
  
"Fine wit' me," Sadie commented and down her second drink.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Together they sat at the table in the center of the dark pub, just fuming. For some time, they just sat, avoiding eye contact with each other. Timmy drew pictures in the sweat of his beer mug. Sadie ordered two more drinks. Then the numbness set in. And the paranoia. She nervously looked around for her satchel, and upon finding it, held it tightly to her waist. Every few seconds, she let go with one hand to wipe the imagined drool from her chin. One of her biggest fears was to have drool spilling from her chin like a baby. Man! She knew better than to drink that quickly. She wiped her chin again.  
  
"What're ya doin'?" Timmy asked as she ran her hand across her face for the fifth time in a minute.  
  
"Nothin', why are ye sittin' `ere?"  
  
"Damn it woman! What's wrong wit' ye?" he yelled. Once again, the pub went silent. "Will ye people start talking before I..." Nervous chatter abruptly began again.  
  
Sadie looked at him. He looked so frustrated, yet he still sat here next to her. Why did he care? She wiped her chin. But he certainly did have something... "I got fired because I didn't give me all," she said finally using her hands to accentuate exactly what she meant by "her all."  
  
"Ooooh," Timmy seemed surprised. Probably at her boldness to claim such a thing she guessed. "So, it's settled then." He sat back, seeming more relaxed. "You will have yerself and yer t'ings sent to me mother's house. And ya can stay there until we can settle t'ings wit' yer boss..."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Timmy just lived for these moments. He was what you'd call the brains of the outfit. And he adored schemes more than money or sex. But even more than schemes, he treasured vengence. It was his hobby to bring down those bastards who thought themselves above the law. Members of the Mannigan family made the laws in this town. And those bastards were not above his law.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Timmy Michelson invited her to meet his friends and eat dinner with them. Sadie hadn't eaten since the count had her thrown out, so she eagerly accepted. And he'd given her a safe place to stay. A Godsend he was!  
  
His friends all had stupid names. Like pet names, she could have sworn one of their names was Spot...  
  
Timmy was clearly the brightest in the group. That Spot guy seemed pretty clever too, but more like a weasel - clever. The quiet red-head might be retarded she thought. The last three were plainly all-brawn-no-brains types.  
  
"So I'll be headin' to Manhattan to speak wit' me associate," the Spot fellow said. "Me boy Mush'll take care a it," he said while he took a bite of food.  
  
Mush! He knows Mush! How many Mush's can there be?  
  
They finished their meals and the group broke up. Some had wives, other business to attend to (something about a barber), but when Spot left, Sadie made her excuses as well - to pick up her things--and to follow Spot. 


	8. oh! Spot!

She tried to hide in the crowds. She was pretty sure he hadn't a clue she was following him. When he went down less crowded streets she lagged further behind, and when he went down allies, she waited until he'd passed through before she even entered. Sadie was proud of her stalking abilities, until he disappeared altogether. He had just walked through this ally, she'd waited, then followed him through; but at the other end he wasn't anywhere. She looked left, right, back, up...  
  
"You'se lookin' fo' me?" Someone whispered in her ear. Before she could turn, there was something sharp at her neck and an arm around her waist. Something heavy pushed her up against a wall. No way out of this one, she thought.  
  
"Uh...I was jus' taking the shortcut back ta get me things..." she stuttered.  
  
"Now, me friend Timmy may be stumped by a perty face, but I ain't dat stupid. Who sent ya?!" the knife choked her this time. She tried to swallow, but it got caught in her throat. "Tawk!" Spot demanded.  
  
"I... I heard ya mention Mush, an' I havn't seen `im since we... since..." He pulled his arm from around her and stuffed his knife back into its holster at his calf.  
  
"Dis is over Mush?" he sighed loudly, obviously disappointed. "Are you'se out of yer everlovin' mind?!" His eyes burned blue-hot heat. Sadie backed down for the first time she could remember.  
  
"Yes... I...I'm sorry." It was all she could think to say. He still had her backed up against the wall. She lowered her head as he brought his face closer to hers. She could feel the heat of his frustration; she could only imagine those clear blue eyes burning.  
  
"You know dat I almos' killed you'se. Don't make dose kinda mistakes in dis town." He breathed in her ear. She could feel his cheek against hers, his lips against her ear. "You might get hurt," he said as he dug his fingernails in her arm. He took a step back from her. "So you wanna go see Mushy-boy," he smirked. Sadie couldn't keep her legs from shaking at this point. She wasn't sure if it was fear, adrenaline, or the pure sexual rush he had just given her.  
  
"Uh huh," she agreed. She never thought she'd faint before. She tried to focus on staying conscious.  
  
"Alright, follow me," he laughed at his own joke.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Mush arrived at the count's residence just as the count himself was coming home. How the count knew him, he hadn't a clue, but he seemed to be waving him over toward his carriage. The driver helped the comte de Castellane out of the carriage, and as he took his last step down, Mush came forward to meet him.  
  
"You are looking for Miss Sadie, I presume," the count greeted him.  
  
"Yes sir, I am," Mush spoke clearly, and pushed his shoulders back. "Is she here sir?"  
  
The count grabbed Mush's hand and shook it heartily. "You'll want to shake my hand young lad!" He then pulled Mush towards him and whispered, "Because I got a piece of the mademoiselle before you." He smiled, "And I got her good," he growled.  
  
Mush didn't think. His first instinct was to swing. And that he did. An uppercut to the count's jaw brought him crashing heavily onto the mud street. Two servants jumped to help the count to his feet. Another came to restrain Mush, but after an easy struggle and an elbow to the servant's pelvis, Mush was free and quickly making his way back home.  
  
The count and his servants were brushing off his garments when he yelled after Mush. "Oh! And she's not here anymore. I'm finished with her. You can have her back!"  
  
Mush was livid. He felt the warm rage rise to his face and hands. It took all he had not to turn around and beat the crap out of that sick French bastard. But this was only round one...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Race and Blink sat together at the local watering hole, eating a celebratory dinner to Race's incredible luck of the draw lately.  
  
"...But I never get dis kinda luck wit' da ladies..." he whined. He slumped over his plate of food, and played with it.  
  
"What about `Ophelia'?" Blink asked, clasping his hands together and fluttering his eyelashes. He mocked the way she pronounced her own name.  
  
"Nah. No. Not her. She's pure trouble, that one." He had thought about that a long time ago, but she was too young, too headstrong, and man, did she attract trouble like a magnet.  
  
"Den I'll taker `er off yer hands," Blink smiled.  
  
"No you won't!" Race gave Blink the evil eye. Blink grinned even bigger. 


	9. Chaper 9

Jacob Castellane took off his shirt slowly, the wound on his shoulder still hurt when he moved it too much. He looked at it in the mirror. The bite mark was grotesque. It was purple and yellow, and was scabbed up with blood. He hadn't let anyone see it to fix it because he didn't want to admit what had happened. He figured he'd heal just fine. He was just hoping it would go away soon, just in case that little brunette he saw at the racetrack showed up at his party.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Mush swung at the air as he walked the streets. His heart was pumping so hard; it felt like it might throw itself right out of his chest. There were so many things he wished he had done to that bastard Castellane. So many moves he knew that would bring him to his knees.  
  
That's not where his regrets ended though; he wished he'd come to see Sadie sooner. Now she was gone. Where could she be? Did she go back home to England? Maybe if he had just come to see her sooner, this wouldn't have happened. Maybe….  
  
"Mushy-boy, I gots sumptin fer ya," Spot's voice broke his train of thought.  
  
"Wha..?" The sun was almost down and long shadows stretched across the street. Mush tried to focus in on his old friend who seemed to materialize out of shadows. Suddenly, something, or someone, was thrown into him. Mush caught her, but stumbled back a few steps. Her curly red hair spilled onto his face and shoulders, he recognized the smell of her perfume. He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length, so he could see her face. "Sadie?" She looked so scared. Her hair was tousled, her eyes were the size of saucers, and he could feel her shaking frantically. She didn't answer, she just threw her arms around his neck, and held on.  
  
"Awww… Looky dis. Idn't dis jus a cute reunion?" Spot cocked his head to one side and smirked. "Found dis wench followin' me, said she knew you'se. Least she wasn't lyin' 'bout dat, er I'd have ta…"  
  
Mush ignored Spot. Lately he'd only caused him more trouble; trying to set up matches, threatening to ruin Mush's career. Mush silently wished Spot would disappear right back into that shadow from which he came. He certainly didn't want to owe him anything, but now it looked like he did. Mush smoothed Sadie's hair. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"  
  
"Who?" she asked. Her voice sounded so different, like it was just off key somehow. She no longer had that carefree and slightly arrogant attitude that she'd had when they first met. Someone had broken her. But when she answered 'who?' another thought altogether entered his mind. He turned to look at Spot, his eyes burning.  
  
Spot caught the heated end of Mush's death-glare. One of the few times he'd ever been caught off guard, he took a step back. "Why ya lookin' at me like 'at? I ain't touched 'er! She said 'er boss done kicked 'er out on 'er ass, so's I 'elped da goirl find ya."  
  
"Thanks fer dat. But could ya let us be now?"  
  
"Suire."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spot was irritated now. He hadn't gotten to rig tomorrow's fight with Mush. And normally he wouldn't have backed down and left, but all the newsies knew better than to push Mush too far. He was usually a push over, but once, and most thought it was just legend, but Spot was there that time, once he had seen that fire in Mush's eyes before. Once Mush had single-handedly almost ruined relations between Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies for good. A few years before Mush had gotten into a fight with a bunch of Brooklyn's newsies over something, they ultimately accused him or one of his friends of stealing, from what Spot could recall. But no one thought Mush had that in him, so when he sent three of Spot's boys to the hospital, broke a bunk bed with someone's head, and sent another through a plate glass window, it took Racetrack, Kid Blink, Jack, Pie Eater, and David to hold him down. Spot had to temporarily forbid Mush on his territory, and those damn peace keeping meetings between Jack and himself were absolutely draining.  
  
In short, Spot was not going to mess with Mush tonight. He'd have to lay low until tomorrow morning, then try again. He also couldn't lose these bets for his partners. He still had a ways to go in the Mannigan family until they trusted him. Women cause so much trouble.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She had wanted this so badly, and now she was here, in his arms. They must've looked like idiots, standing in the street, just hugging one another. She was sure this sort of public display was also against social norms, but she was in too deep by now to be worried by such things. She just wanted to feel his warmth, the safety of his arms.  
  
"You'se got somewheres ta stay tanight?" he asked her worriedly.  
  
"I was hopin' to spend it in your arms, if that's alright," she whispered. 


	10. its gonna get Mush-y :o)

Sadie woke up to the sounds of people in the street. The sun just peeked over the buildings, but it seemed like the whole city was awake. Since it was mid-August, she and Mush didn't really need the blanket they were cuddled up in, especially now that the sun was up. Sadie sat up and rubbed her eyes. They had spent the night on the rusty fire escape outside Mush's fourth floor apartment since he had four other roommates inside making it crowded enough inside. Mush rolled over, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back down into his embrace.  
  
"Five more minutes," he mumbled.  
  
Sadie couldn't help but smile. "Ya lazy bum. It's no wonder me country rules the world."  
  
Just then something hit the metal fire escape, then something else hit Mush. "Hey!" Another object hit the window. Mush jumped up to see who was throwing things at them. Ophelia stood below them, armed and ready to throw another rock. She dropped her arm when Mush appeared over the edge.  
  
"Hey, is Race up 'ere?" she hollered.  
  
"If you'se wasn't a goirl, I'd soak ya!" Mush replied.  
  
"Oh! Jus' git Race will ya?"  
  
Mush rapped on the window until Race appeared. "You know we gots a fight in two hours," Race said as he opened the window. "I hope she didn't wear you out," he said winking at Sadie. She blushed and looked away.  
  
Mush whacked him on the side of the head. "She's a lady! Now your streetrat goirlfriend wants ya down dere." He pointed down at Ophelia on the street.  
  
Race rolled his eyes. "Opie ain't me goirl. Tell 'er I'll be right down."  
  
Mush and Sadie exchanged looks and giggled.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Peter Gould was by no means going to use his own money in this deal. The idea of tampering with the stock market was a little bit of a challenge. There weren't yet laws in place to control such endeavors, but there was still the possibility of a scandal if he were caught. His father, Jay Gould, was a genius at such experiments, and Peter intended to live up to his father's fortune if not reputation.  
  
He had convinced his unruly brother-in-law to cough up enough money to get things started. Fortunately for him, Jacob Castellane was a fool with money, and naively handed over the funds without so much as a receipt, a witness (other than that governess), or a deal. So Peter had used the money under the name of a third-party, so that if it went well, he could take credit, and if it went badly, Jacob could not.  
  
Either way, Peter Gould would come out with no loss.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
At some point the night before, Spot realized that he had accidentally taken on more responsibility than just fixing today's fight for his gang. By taking Sadie to Mush, and not bringing her back to Mid-town where she was supposed to stay with Timmy Michelson's mother, he'd gotten in up to his neck. Somehow he needed to make sure he got Sadie to come back with him tonight. And he had to think of some way to make sure Mush didn't win this fight. His integrity within the Family rode on this.  
  
  
  
Spot made his way through the crowd at the fight. It hadn't started yet, and Mush was getting warmed up inside the ropes. Racetrack stood right outside the ropes shouting out orders, that Sadie girl was close by, along with some other dark haired girl.  
  
"If it ain't da infamous Spot Conlon!"  
  
Spot turned around to see Kid Blink from the Manhattan newsies coming towards him. "Hey Kid, how's it goin'? Where's me boy Jack? Ain't seen 'im around."  
  
"Ain't nobody seen Jack Kelly around. Rumor is 'e got a big time job wit' da govaner. No one knows fer sure. We ain't seen Davey eider. Seems like da old crowd jus' broke up." He shook his head, thinking of the good old days when they were young and wild and free. "Ya heared dat Mush is fightin' today?"  
  
"Yeah, dat's why I'm 'ere," Spot answered as they made their way through the crowd. "Racetrack!"  
  
Race turned and saw Spot, he couldn't hide the disappointment from his face. "Mush is gonna win dis time Spot, and I don't give a damn 'bout yer posse in Mid-town, 'cause my boy has been training hard fer dis."  
  
Spot got right up in Race's face. "I don't t'ink you understand me, Racetrack. Mush cain't win dis fight." He cocked his head to the side, which meant he was ready for a fight if need be.  
  
Blink interrupted. "Da fight's already started you'se guys. Shaddup!"  
  
Ophelia scooted herself in between Blink and Race so she could hear the argument. Spot continued, "Make sure Mush goes down today. I don't wanna have ta wage war on me old buddies just 'cause you'se afraid ta lose one fight."  
  
"One fight?!" Race screamed. "We's in da finals, you son of a bitch. No mother lovin' man would fix a fight in da finals!"  
  
The argument continued well into the fifth round when Spot offered five dollars to Race and Mush if Mush would just lose.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ophelia listened to the two young men fight. When the new guy offered five dollars if Mush would lose, she could think only of that dress she saw at the consignment shop for five dollars. The dress she wanted so badly to wear to the count's party tomorrow evening. Between her desire for that money and her desire to make those two shut up, she decided to take matters into her own hands.  
  
She pushed Spot aside, and got right up to the ropes. "Mush!" she screamed. "Mush! Look!" Mush didn't look up. Of course, he's concentrating. How to break his concentration? She unbuttoned her blouse, and shouted his name again. As soon as he finally looked up, she opened her shirt and flashed her breasts to him, as well as the rest of the crowd.  
  
Mush stood, shocked. His opponent took that chance to give him an uppercut, which laid him out for the knockout. 1…2….3….4…  
  
Ophelia rebuttoned up her shirt. Race and Spot stood frozen. 5….6….  
  
Blink smiled and asked if she needed any help putting everything back into place. Race punched him. 7...8...9…  
  
Ophelia walked right up to Spot. 10…11…12! "KO!"  
  
"Ya owe me five dollars," she explained.  
  
Spot quickly pulled out the money and handed it to her. "Anytime." He winked at her. She sauntered through the crowd which seemed to just part as she came near.  
  
Blink ran after her shamelessly. "Hey, whatcha doin' tonight?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"And I thought I did some slutty t'ings in me time…." Sadie muttered under her breath as she ducked under the ropes to see if Mush was okay. She kneeled down next to him, and wiped the blood from his mouth. As soon as he came to, he quickly jumped up to prove himself a man. Spot brought him some water instead of Race, who was nowhere to be found.  
  
"Sorry 'bout da fight. You'se was doin' aight until dat goirl showed us 'er knockers. Ain't never seen a pair before Mushy-boy?," Spot smirked.  
  
Mush was confused at first, but that quickly transformed into anger. He got up in Spot's face and threatened, "You fuck wit' one more of me fights, and you'll be da one at da butt end of me fist." With that, he grabbed Sadie's hand and stepped out of the match.  
  
"Wait." Spot grabbed her other hand. "She's coming wit' me." 


	11. :oP

"Take yer grubby hand off me goirl," Mush fumed.  
  
"She made a deal wit' me boss. She gots ta honor dat," Spot spit. (()  
  
"I don care if she sold her soul to da devil 'imself! She ain't going nowheres wit' you!" Mush's eyes flickered as he spoke.  
  
"I did make a deal with 'im, Mush," Saide interrupted. "Spot can I meet with ya later taday?"  
  
"Ya don't know how ta keep yer word….." Spot mumbled.  
  
"I'm gonna soak 'im…" Mush said under his breath as he lunged toward Spot. Spot caught Mush's uppercut on the left side of his jaw.  
  
Mush hit him? Mush hit him, Spot Conlon, ex-leader of Brooklyn, part of the Mannigan gang? Mush really hit him? Girls really do have some sort of witchcraft over men.  
  
Sadie jumped in between them while Spot was still stunned. But Spot snapped out of it quickly and tried to push Sadie out of the way.  
  
"Spot, back down. Now."  
  
Everyone turned around to see who was speaking. Timmy Michelson moved through the crowd who was now cheering on the fight between Spot and Mush. Spot froze when he saw Timmy. Sadie just stared, she hadn't thought of any excuse for her behavior the night before. Mush hadn't a clue who this man was, but he seemed to be important to Spot.  
  
"Spot, I'll take care of t'ings from here," and with a wave of his hand, Spot removed himself from the premises without a blink.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
So Spot was fixing those fights. Timmy wasn't sure if that made him a problem or an asset to the family. But he'd take care of that later. His mother wasn't so happy that her guest never appeared last night. She'd stayed up all night last night worrying. His mother really was an angel.  
  
"Miss Sadie, can I 'ave a word with ya privately?"  
  
She looked like a guilty child with her head down and her shoulders pushed forward like that. "Yes," she said as she came towards him. Mush didn't argue this time as she and Timmy made their way through the crowd to a more appropriate place.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ophelia was searching through the dresses at the consignment shop when she heard his voice. She suddenly felt guilty for the stunt she'd pulled. She'd always dreamt of the day she'd bare her breasts for Race, but the circumstances were supposed to be quite different. The thought sent ice running through her blood. Maybe she'd gone too far this time…  
  
"Opie?" was all he said.  
  
She waited for him to say something else. He didn't. She turned around to find herself staring him in the eyes. She caught her breath. "The dress," she said clutching a gown in her hands, "it's five dollars."  
  
Did she say the wrong thing? He just turned around and left. Was Race just playing big brother like usual or was there something more in his eyes?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Me ma waited fer ya last night." Timmy leaned on the banister of someone's front porch. "I take it ya had more pressing matters?"  
  
"I….I…um. That boy, the fighter, he's me beau. An' I ain't seen 'im in weeks. Thought I wouldn't see 'im agin really. An' when I found 'im, I could not bear to leave 'im!" She rambled on, "I am sorry. I really do apologize. Please tell yer mother that I'm terribly sorry. An' that I'm not a whore. I slept outside last night!"  
  
Timmy smiled. Her frustration was entirely too cute. "Tell 'er yerself. Let's git yer t'ings."  
  
Sadie's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "Go back to the count's house?"  
  
"Oh? He's a count is he?"  
  
"I can not return to 'is 'ouse."  
  
He grabbed her wrist. "Sure ya can. Ya owe me anyhow."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ophelia bought the dress anyway. It was dark green, with long black gloves, a hat with a feather, and a plummeting neckline. She was going to a real count's party. And he was sending her a real motorcar to pick her up and take her there. Talk about showing up in style. As much as she loved Race, she just couldn't bear to have him following her around a party like that. Even his new suit looked so middle-class.  
  
Race didn't come by for the reading lessons she had finally convinced him to give her. And she didn't see him at his normal selling spot the next morning on her way to work. He had lost yesterday's bets, because of her, but she didn't want to think about that. He should be out selling papes if he lost. 


	12. sorry so late!

(Sorry it's been sooooooo long, but I've been through all kinds of personal crap and been kinda man hating, which makes for a bad Newsies fanfic. But dreaming about Mush should surely pull me out of this funk!)  
  
Race and Mush read over the newspaper headlines hastily. "Railroad strikes an' dis foreign crap ain't gonna sell me papes," Race growled.  
  
"Hey, dere's some shit hea 'bout da stock market. We can sell down nea Wall Street," Mush offered.  
  
"Where? What's it say?"  
  
"It says 'Charles Duff Stock Market Scandal. But Who Is Charles Duff?" Hea, read dis," Mush pushed the paper towards Race.  
  
Race scanned it quickly. "It looks like somebody is playin' bookie in da big game. Maybe dis guy Charles Duff has got a real good hand." A smile slowly spread across his face. "Get me a hundred and fifty papes. We's gonna sell some shit taday."  
  
Mush smiled and headed toward the gate. It was good to see Race smile for the first time since Opie flashed the whole world. If she wasn't a girl, he woulda smashed her head in for that stunt. They lost this week's rent money over that damn match. And if Mush didn't win the next one, he was out of the finals.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Peter Gould couldn't believe it had already made headlines. He hadn't gotten any sleep since that damn Joe Pullitzer and his cronies discovered "Charles Duff." That damn Pullitzer seemed to have the biggest web of undercover officers and cohorts than anyone else on earth. He kept trying to convince himself that no one could realistically trace Duff back to Castellane or himself. Even if they could trace it back to Castellane, no one could prove that he had any part of it.  
  
As long as he no longer used his alias, Charles Duff, he was in the clear. He had already skinned about $2 million off the top of the all the stocks that entered the New York Stock Exchange. Peter hadn't made as much as he hoped, but he still came out ahead. He always came out ahead.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
When Timmy and Sadie arrived at the Comte de Castellane's townhouse, it was swarming with carts and servants, all running around like ants at their hill.  
  
"Looks like a party," Timmy commented.  
  
Sadie took a deep breath and stepped up to the front porch. The butler immediately opened the door, for Timmy, not for her. Timmy greeted him and took the liberty of asking that Sadie's belongings be sent to his mother's home. While he and the butler discussed addresses, one of the maids came running up to Sadie and grabbed her hand.  
  
"How are ye?" the maid asked.  
  
"I'm just fine," Sadie answered, visibly confused since she was very much hated in that household even before her departure days before.  
  
The maid continued, "Ye know, he sent Christian away. He sent 'im to a boarding school somewhere. Ever since that night, when, ya know…. When Christian bit him. He still has a nasty wound. Looks like the child took a chuck of his father's shoulder! There's rumors ya know…"  
  
Sadie was surprised that the girl knew so much about what happened that night. She assumed everyone thought she was the one who bit the count. "But that poor child, they sent him away! And he is such a good boy," Sadie lamented.  
  
"There's a party tonight. I've got ta go help! It's nice ta see you're alright!" And then she was gone around the corner.  
  
"C'mon Sadie," Timmy said. "Your t'ings will be sent to me mum's house today. And we have a party to attend tonight." Sadie looked up at him. He smiled and held up the count's calling card, their ticket into that party. 


	13. here's what really happend...

"Extry! Extry! Infamous Charles Duff steals from de Stock Mawket!"  
  
"Who's Charles Duff?"  
  
"Gots ta buy da pape ta find out sir!"  
  
"I'll take one."  
  
A young redheaded lady came up behind the newsie and threw her arms around his waist. "I'll take one too.."  
  
The newsie turned around suddenly, "Me God Sadie! Ya scared me shitless!"  
  
"Ah… yer a big boy, Mush. Gimme a paper," she said as she grabbed a newspaper from his hand.  
  
"Ya seem back ta yer old self…" Mush muttered as he stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
Sadie flipped through the pages. "Don't stick it out unless ya plan on use'n it…" Mush raised an eyebrow. "Hey… I know this…I KNOW this!"  
  
"What do ya know?" Mush asked, confused.  
  
"I know who Charles Duff is, or are, or whatever."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"This newspaper headline, it says Charles Duff stole money from the stock market. Charles Duff isn't a person though! He's two blokes!"  
  
"Okay," Mush started, "Yer sayin dat ya know who stole all dis money?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Race was in a slightly better mood since he really made out on the day's papes. He promised himself he would not let Opie go to this party on her own though. He knew her, and he knew how she attracted trouble. And now with her new habit of flashing her breasts for money….someone's got to keep track of her.  
  
So, he waited outside her boarding house until she appeared, just as he figured, sneaking out without a chaperone. She is so predictable, he thought. He stayed in the shadows and followed her to the count's house.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
As Ophelia stepped up to the front door, she realized she was noticeably shaking. Would they let her in? What if they sent her away? Who would she talk to? Would the count remember her?  
  
To her relief, the butler stepped aside and took her coat.  
  
She was in.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Sir, the girl….er….lady is here," the butler said, and quickly took his leave.  
  
Jacob looked around. He spotted her walking shyly into the hall, looking around, but seemingly afraid to touch anything. How pitiful she seemed. How pitifully cute. He would most certainly have to put her under his wing.  
  
He pushed his towards her. "Madamoiselle, may I offer you some champagne?"  
  
"Oh yes! Thank you!"  
  
"I must admit, I never was aware of your name…." Jacob smiled.  
  
"It is Ophelia, sir," she nearly whispered. She seemed quite like she might faint.  
  
"Are you alright? Would you like to sit down?"  
  
"I'm fine, sir, just fine, thank you." Her face turned pink and her eyes moved away from his.  
  
"Please don't call me sir. Call me Jacob."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sadie entered the party on Timmy Michelson's arm. Not a bad place to be, she soon found out. He seemed to know everyone in this town, although she sensed that their respect for him stemmed from fear.  
  
She was extremely nervous upon returning to her old residence, especially if someone were to recognize her. She wondered if the count had sent the baby Anna home to her mother or if she was upstairs. He most certainly could not have sent her to a boarding school like he had her brother.  
  
Sadie saw a chance to get away for a second while Timmy was immersed in conversation, and she quickly disappeared up the steps to the third floor. She walked slowly to her old room, wondering if someone else lived there now… She opened the door, and the room looked just as it had when she left. No doubt someone new was living here now, but the setup was the same nonetheless.  
  
She thought about that night, something she didn't often let herself do. She remembered when the count barged into her room while she was dressing, how she told him to leave, how that seemed to just turn him on more… She shivered. He had grabbed her wrist forcing her to drop her clothes and stand there in her underwear. She remembered how scared she was. She wondered about what could have happened had Christian not entered the room, drowsy from a nightmare, and seen his father pushing Sadie up against the wall. Sadie remembered the child screaming, "Father, please don't hurt 'er!" And then she found herself on the floor, and Christian on his father's back, biting him. The count screamed, and flung the child at her. Luckily for both of them, she had caught him. Lord knows she'd never forgive herself if Christian was hurt…  
  
She was startled to hear the door opening. A flashback of the count made her jump and hold her shawl up to her chest. It was only a servant who entered, and she was stunned too, to see a lady all dressed up for the party in this small servant's quarters. Sadie apologized and quickly ran out of the room and back to the safety of the crowd downstairs. 


	14. the party

The party was breathtaking. The house alone was gorgeous with its wood paneled walls, vast oil paintings, nd huge oriental vases spiked with dozens of flowers. The grand oval red room, with its blood red wallpaper backed my bright white cornices and chair rails, was the central hall. The high vaulted ceiling made the chatter of guests echo and made the average person feel very small. But what was really breathtaking were the people, the costumes, the food, and the wine.  
  
Besides the mistaken invitation that fell into Sadie's hands, and the devious one that Ophelia received, not one person was invited who didn't have a special place in New York society. The men dressed in gray and black suits with tails and top hats. The ladies' dresses were tightly corseted and arrayed in dazzling colors, fabrics, and feathers. There was of course Virginia wine, Maryland crabs, Maine Lobster, and since good wine only comes from Italy, Italian wine.  
  
From where Race hid in the corner between a bathroom, a closet, and another wall, Opie seemed to be nervous. He prayed to the God he so often dismissed. He prayed that she would leave, that there would be an accident, something embarrassing, anything to get her away from the disgusting Frenchman who was drooling over her.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Descending the stairs back into the party, Sadie caught a glipse of Ophelia, Racetrack's girlfriend. Confused, she made a detour through the crowd for a better look. The poor girl looked absolutely ridiculous in that green velour getup. Sadie felt bad for her. Did she even know she looked like a whore? It was no coincidence that that the crowd of ladies stood on the opposite side of the room where she was sitting. Everyone was perfectly aware of what the count had in store for the little girl with shiny black hair and a cupid's face.  
  
Sadie herself wasn't very fond of Ophelia after her flashing episode and the way she often spouted out at the mouth, but that was no reason she should stand around and let the count strike again. As soon as Count Castellane left Ophelia's side, Sadie would tell her about him….  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ophelia figured they were just shy, that they didn't come talk to her because they didn't know her. Maybe somehow they knew she was a factory worker. No matter, she worked hard and she was proud of that. She sat up tall and put her chin up. The count showed her sufficient attention. He even plucked a pink rosebud from one of the big vases and gave it to her. She had always dreamed of the day she's meet a true gentleman.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Jacob handed the peasant girl her third glass of champagne. She was finally relaxing. He almost hoped she'd just pass out so he could make his rounds without her leaving. He heard the things the other whispered about her and hoped she couldn't. He looked around for someone to entertain her. He spotten and old college buddy, quickly introduced them, and wandered off to host his party properly.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It wasn't fifteen minutes into the party that Race was discovered and promptly removed from the premises. But not before he made a scene of kicking and screaming. If he could just embarrass her enough, maybe she'd get kicked out too. He claimed she brought him to the party, but that damn count intervened and demanded Race be removed. Opie just sat there with her mouth wide open. Oh no. She was that drunk.  
  
Race attempted to get back in two more times before the cops finally took him to spend the night in jail.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Timmy found Sadie hovering in the corner watching something. Assuming she was avoiding the count, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into his group of friends. A friend of Timmy's asked her to dance. He was happy to see her otherwise occupied and not hiding in a corner. Timmy was quite proud of himself.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sadie spent the rest of the night on the dance floor. Every time she turned around, another friend of Timmy's grabbed her and spinned her around. It was a whole blur of dancing, drinking, and meeting people. She tried to get to Ophelia a few times unsuccessfully, and finally lost her altogether. The party finally began to calm down, and she found herself saying her goodbyes. She had a really fun time. And the count didn't even see her.  
  
Oh shit! Ophelia was gone. And so was the count. 


	15. Opie's big mistake

Everything went so fast. Her first champagne. Her first kiss. A second. The count was so suave, so smooth. She couldn't keep up with him. Her head was spinning as she tried to speak, but couldn't put the words together. And when she did speak, the words were so jumbled. They didn't come out the way she'd thought they would.  
  
He helped her up the stairs to a guest bedroom because she couldn't walk straight. In fact, standing up was hard enough without the forward propulsion. He was even kind enough to help her with her corset since she fumbled with the clasps and broke two nails. Her head really hurt.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sadie was desperate. Where was Ophelia? And why didn't Timmy care? She made another attempt at the stairwell just to be shooed away by the butler, who recognized her, and she had a sneaking suspicion, knew exactly what was going on.  
  
Timmy seemed confused by her desperation, so she explained the situation.  
  
"Oh, that lil' tart? You'se worried about a whore?" he asked.  
  
"She's not a whore. She's just a stupid bloody girl. She's drunk."  
  
"Da way dat child was dressed, she knows what she's doin'" He turned and walked outside, said goodbye to a few more friends, then turned back around waiting for Sadie to join him on the front stoop. "Dere's nuttin ya can do now. It's time to go home."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Race sat behind bars that night. Certainly not the first time he had been in jail. But the time never ever ticked by so slowly. He swore time was moving backwards.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was all over so quickly. It was painfully quick. This is not the way she expected to lose her virginity. Now he lie there next to her, running his fingers through her knotted hair. She felt sick both physically and emotionally.  
  
"Are you feeling alright, my madamoiselle?"  
  
She groaned, "I'm a good girl…."  
  
"You most certainly were," he grinned wickedly.  
  
"No! You don't understand! I have to be married. I mean, we have to be married. It may not be too late. We just won't do it again until after the wedding…" she thought aloud.  
  
"Oh," Jacob frowned. "I thought you knew, my little sunflower, I am married already." 


	16. is this fic too long?

Ophelia didn't even know where she was going. Only that she had to get away. She ran as fast as she could, until she could run no more. She ran until she could no longer breathe and her sides ached. She ran until she got to the Brooklyn Bridge.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
As the first few rays of sun emerged over the horizon, the guard, who had lost a few hands of poker to Race, was forced to release him from jail in order to release himself from debt. Race's smug smile disappeared quickly once he was back on the street. Where should he go from here? Where is Ophelia?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Timmy, his mother, and Sadie were enjoying a late breakfast in his mother's sun room when Mush arrived. Sadie was actually very impressed and somewhat surprised at the natural fashion in which Timmy and his mother treated Mush and her. They were certainly of a higher class than the governess and her paperboy boyfriend, but they didn't seem the least bit interested in this gap.  
  
Timmy's mother offered Mush a place at the table and Mush gracefully accepted. He carried the day's paper in one hand. "Timmy, if I told ya dat I know who is dis Charles Duff fella is. Da one dat's in da paper, da front page, every day dis week. What could ya do ta bring 'im down?"  
  
Timmy looked almost startled at Mush's proposal. "Ya got a personal vendetta against dis guy?"  
  
"Yes." Sadie raised an eyebrow at Mush's firm response.  
  
"Do you know Joseph Pullitzer?" Timmy asked.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She climbed onto the railing of the bridge. The wind picked up and whipped her hair into her face. The sun was just appearing, so she was still concealed by the shadows. She knew if she was going to follow through and jump, she'd have to do it now before someone happened by and stopped her. A few more tears slipped out of her bloodshot eyes and her lip began to tremble. The wind picked up again and threw her off balance.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Joseph Pullitzer was not very fond of unscheduled appointments. His sight had gone very bad, and he liked to know exactly what was going on at all times. He did not like to be surprised.  
  
He also didn't really like to be associated with this crime ring, this gang, this Mannigan family. But he was not an unintelligent man, he knew the importance of connections in NYC. And he knew that where he and his associates owned most of America's money, gangs like the Mannigan family owned the people.  
  
Timmy's second hand man Sergio waited in the lobby for an answer.  
  
One of Pullitzer's assistants greeted him. "Mr. Pullitzer will see him tomorrow at 8 am sharp." 


	17. no, Opie didn't die! But she'd be well n...

David had just been walking to work when he saw the most bizarre sight. A young woman, dressed in a green evening gown with her hair disheveld and her makeup smeared, ran right passed him. Actually, she elbowed him out of her way before running past him.  
  
David had a sister, so he knew how women could over react, how the stupidest little problems could throw them into a frenzy. He almost continued on to his new job as a clerk for the Port Authority, but like always, his conscience got the better of him. He turned around and looked for the raccoon-eyed girl. After walking a block, he scanned the area around him. Dead end. Unless she took the bridge over to Brooklyn…  
  
Just then, a flash of green caught his eye. He squinted to make sure he was seeing things correctly through the early morning fog. Was she on the railing of the bridge? He started toward the bridge when the wind picked up and blew his hat right off his head. He bent down to retrieve it, and as he looked up, she had disappeared altogether.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Life didn't flash before her eyes, instead she saw everything around her in slow motion. As the wind picked up, it threw Ophelia off balance, but as is the body's natural reaction, she flung out her hands, frantically reaching for something to hold onto. Her left hand found a support cable and clung to it. The momentum of her fall threw her right side over her left, which was anchored by the cable, so that she hit the bridge itself with her face. She slid down the slanted support cable desperately grabbing at anything tangible with her right hand. Finally, a knot in the cable halted her slide, but swung her around again and slammed her back into a giant metal truss.  
  
And there she clung onto the bottom of the Brooklyn Bridge for dear life, hanging on with two shaking hands, above the shimmering river below. The sun had just come up, and its brilliance was blinding. Ophelia didn't want to die.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It seemed likie Timmy's mother had adopted Sadie as her personal assistant. Sadie wasn't sure if she should keep looking for another job or not. Mrs. Michelson kept her plenty busy running errands and accompanying her on social calls. That morning, Mrs. Michelson asked her to deliver invitations to a Ladies' Afternoon Tea. She had no place to turn her down, even though Mush was visiting, and she didn't want to miss him.  
  
As she slipped out the servant's door, she caught a glimpse of the two men in the sitting room. They were both very absorbed in the discussion. Timmy was especially animated, his dark hair flipping about, and his Irish accent coming out. What worried her was Mush's facial expression. He looked very disturbed, and very deep in thought.  
  
Sadie shuffled down the dirt streets. She couldn't get Mush's expression out of her mind. Maybe he was upset because he was so close to being out of the boxing championships. Maybe there was something she could do.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Timmy always seized an opportunity when it was available. That is precisely the reason his position rivaled even the Mannigan sons, who were blood relatives, in the Family. Mush's proposition at breakfast had opened a new door.  
  
He had already helped Sadie out of the kindness of his heart. But now Mush wanted something too, and Timmy had every right to ask for a favor in return.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Kid Blink was sleeping in. He was out late the night before and lay on his top bunk all twisted up in his sheets. He was pulled out of his sleep when something hit the bunk hard. He jumped up, thinking it was an earthquake, and scrambled over to the edge of the bed just to see Race shaking it.  
  
"What in da hell do ya think you'se doin'?"  
  
Race looked up. He looked like hell. Dark brown circles underlined his eyes, and his skin was deathly pale. "Have you seen Opie?"  
  
Blink blinked (!) confusedly. Race must be desperate. How would he know where she was? He'd only met her twice. "Nah. What's wrong wit ya? What happened?"  
  
Race shook his head. "I dunno what happened. And I cain't find nobody." 


	18. should I end it or make it last longer?

Curiosity pulled David to the edge of the bridge to see…. Had she jumped? Was this girl simply a figment of his imagination? The sun was just coming up and the reflection off the water below was blinding. The fog had lifted and David could finally see clearly.  
  
Then he saw her. Below him and to his left, she hung there. She looked like she was screaming, but he couldn't hear a sound. David shook his head, still stuck in disbelief. Snap out of it! He had to do something.  
  
He turned around and shouted for someone to help. "Hey! There's a girl down here! Someone help me!"  
  
A few people ignored him, and walked on by. David grabbed the next passerby by the arm. "Mister, there's a girl hanging down there. Ya gotta help me save her!"  
  
The man was about thirty and had a full grown beard and glasses. He seemed annoyed at first, but once he looked over the edge and saw her, he jumped to task. "What do we do?"  
  
David pulled nervously at his suspenders, and then an idea hit him. He unbuttoned his suspenders, wrapped one around his waist, and tied the second one to the first and handed it to his partner. "You're going to repel down there?" the man asked incredulously. "Do you know how far it is down there?? No one has lived from that fall!"  
  
David ignored the warning. "Here hold this end. Tie it to something. Make sure it stays." The suspenders were new. David suspected they wouldn't break.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Race hated Ophelia. He absolutely despised her after this latest prank. First, she flashes all his friends for money, then denies she knows him at the party, and now…. And now…  
  
He assumed the count wouldn't take no for an answer. How could one girl get into so much trouble?  
  
He lit one cigarette off another as he sat on the front steps of her boarding house. The lady of the house had told him if Opie had done what they thought she had, then she'd be forced to kick her out of the house. She said she wanted "a home for ladies," and couldn't maintain her reputation with girls "like Ophelia."  
  
Race shook his head. He didn't have the energy to be her babysitter anymore. He felt like he owed her mother when she died earlier that year. She'd been sort of a neighborhood mother to him, and Opie his sister.  
  
"You'se gonna sit 'ere all day?" Blink asked.  
  
"Until she gets back, so's I kin soak 'er," he fumed.  
  
"I gots ta go, Racetrack. I know she'll be alright. We can git dat count doh. Just give me a few hours to come up wit' a plan." Blink said. He got up and patted Race on the shoulder. "They're all trouble," he winked and strutted off.  
  
Race decided he was never going to get married.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I'll make it worth your while." Tommy sat at the edge of his Queen Anne chair with his elbows resting on his knees. Mush sat across from him, slouching back in a big fluffy floral chair. He didn't move. "Listen, Pullitzer isn't exactly the easiest guy to get involved with. I'm usin' one of me contacts ta even git to 'im. I 'ave a feelin' dat he'll 'elp take down anybody in da Gould family."  
  
Mush made a face that asked the question "why?"  
  
Timmy noticed and explained, "Pullitzer and Jay Gould, Peter's father, were enemies. Pullitzer has published hundreds of anti-Gould comic pages, headlines, and flyers. He hated the man. In fact, almost everybody did. 'E passed on a few years ago though. Now Peter runs 'is empire. I seriously doubt dere's any love between Peter and Joseph Pullitzer."  
  
Mush finally became animated. He leaned forward, "So he'll help us?"  
  
Timmy smiled. "If I ask 'im to, 'e might."  
  
Mush sat back. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Well." Timmy paused, thinking how to put it nicely. "Dere's dis barber in me section of town. He's causin' trouble. He don't want da family dere, an' usually we'd just force 'im out, but 'e won't leave. And what's worse, he's startin' a kinda union of store owners in da neighborhood to deny dere payments to us."  
  
"Payments?" Mush asked.  
  
"Yeah, it's a protection tax. I keep me boys posted in da area ta make sure no other gangs move in."  
  
"And if they don't pay?"  
  
"I want you an' Spot ta cause some damage if ya know what I mean," he lowered his voice when his mother walked by the door. "If ya do it, I'll talk ta Pullitzer AND git Spot off yer back. So you 'ave a chance at the championship."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The man stood there in shock at this sight. He had tied the suspenders to the railing, but decided, just in case, to hold the end.  
  
David was on the other side if the railing, looking down for somewhere to put his foot. His shoes were discarded on the bridge, and he hoped the nervous sweat wouldn't make him slip. He prayed silently that he could pull this off.  
  
One step onto the metal truss, he didn't slip. He took a deep breath and leaned back, hoping the suspenders held up. Time was of essence. Another step down, the suspenders seemed to be holding fine, but could they hold the weight of the girl too if he even got that far?  
  
"Hey wait! Here!" The man from above was pulling his suspenders off as well. He fumbled with them, tying them together, and then threw one end down to David.  
  
David sighed, "Thanks!" He took of his shirt first, and tied the second suspender around his chest. Then he stuffed his shirt under the suspenders to free his hand.  
  
He took another step down. There was no going back now. He could almost reach her. He could hear her now. She was whimpering.  
  
David realized that he couldn't expect to pull her up with the shirt like he'd planned. Her hands were shaking so badly, he was sure it was a matter of seconds before she dropped into the river. He had to go down further. 


	19. Spot or Mush?

David positioned himself on the bottom ledge of the bridge, his back pressed up against the metal truss, and the metal rope hanging diagonally in front of him. He leaned down to try to reach the girl's hand and felt the suspenders tighten around him. He'd reached the end of their length. She was slipping. He had to make his move now.  
  
Reaching out as far as his restraints would allow him without losing his footing, he grabbed for her hand. He missed and his right foot slid in the dust, so he grabbed the metal rope to gather his composure. He took a deep breath.  
  
"help…." Her cry was weakening. David imagined her grip was too.  
  
One more try. Make this one count, he thought to himself. He leaned down again, threw his whole body downward, hoping to God that the suspenders didn't just break, and grasped her sweaty hand. Success! Her grip tightened on his, and using strength he didn't know he even had, he pulled her as far as he could up to the ledge, then swung his left arm around her waist, and pulled her into him.  
  
There they clung to one another; David leaning against the side of the bridge, and the girl grasping tightly to him balancing her legs and skirts around his and her face sobbing into his shoulder.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Mush didn't like the idea of teaming up with Spot and this gang, but the benefits Timmy had offered were really hard to turn down. Not only could they publicly embarrass the count, he could be imprisoned for fiddling with the stock market. And if Timmy could get Spot off his back, then Mush actually had a chance to win the boxing championships. Things could really work out in his favor.  
  
The way Mush saw it, he really had to accept this offer. It was a well- known fact that turning down the Mannigan family for a "favor" could mean bad things to come.  
  
He spent the morning selling papers to make up for Race, wherever he was, and the afternoon beating the crap out of the hanging sandbag in the alley. He was supposed to meet up with Spot later that night.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sadie was actually surprised at how easy it was to find Spot. He was exactly where she met him, having afternoon drinks with his buddies in that glum pub.  
  
She had been practicing what she would say to him the whole way there, but the minute she saw him, she got nervous. It was something about those clear blue eyes that stopped her in her tracks every time. She flashed back to when he caught her following him in the alley, and how close they were…  
  
"Looky hea. If it ain't Timmy's new charity case." Spot said when he saw her. He stood up at his table. "Git up boys. Dontcha see who it is? It's Saaadie, de po' giorl who cain't take care a herself. Gotta 'ave a man stand up fer 'er." He walked around her, looking at her like she was some animal at the zoo. He suddenly stopped in front of her and grabbed her hand, "How kin I be a service to ya madam Sadie?"  
  
As if she wasn't already intimidated, she didn't expect this kind of unwelcome greeting. Sadie stumbled over her words. "Ah wanted to talk to you. I was… hoping… alone…"  
  
"Alone? Why alone? Me boys won't tell nobody." He turned to the table of his friends, "Right boys?"  
  
"Right!" Sergio blurted.  
  
Spot smirked. "Go on," he baited her.  
  
Sadie's Scotch-Irish temper was starting to boil over. She took a deep breath. "I would rather not. Maybe you are right, I should skip talking to you and go straight to Timmy."  
  
This got Spot's attention, but something about this girl made him not know when to quit. He enjoyed egging her on. He wanted a confrontation with her, without Timmy or Mush butting in. "Dat how dey do it in yer country? Cain't stand up fer yerself?"  
  
Sadie turned to leave before she let her true feelings show. She wanted to claw his face off. But instead, she stopped, walked right back up to him, and backhanded him across his face.  
  
Spot flinched, stunned. His friends were in a sudden uproar of laughter and cheers. Spot could not hit her back, not in front of his "friends" anyway. They would certainly tell Timmy and Spot couldn't afford that. So, he grabbed her by her skinny wrist and pulled her through a door at the back of the bar and up a narrow case of stairs.  
  
Sadie dragged her feet, she didn't know where he was pulling her, but she knew she probably didn't want to be alone with him. He was strong though, and dragged her down a dark hallway and into a room cluttered with boxes. She remembered the last time, when he pulled a knife on her, and hoped this wouldn't be a repeat.  
  
Spot threw her up against the boxes. One fell off the top of the pile and crashed on the floor. Sadie drew in her breath sharply. He grabbed her by the collar of her white blouse, "You'se one lucky trick." It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, but something stopped him.  
  
Sadie was frozen. Her thick curly hair was in her face, but she was too afraid to move her free hand to fix it. Spot didn't move either, he gripped her wrist until she felt the pin-prick sensation that meant her blood wasn't circulating.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Race nearly drifted off on the front steps of the boarding house, when he was stirred by a distantly familiar voice. "Racetrack Higgins? Is that really you?" Race rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. Standing in front of him was Davy, from the strike days, and he was supporting a weather beaten Ophelia.  
  
Race snapped awake. "Davy? Opie?" The confusion was apparent on his face.  
  
David started, "Oh, you two know each other? Ophelia and I had quite a morning." He had his arm around her, and was most likely holding her up altogether from the looks of it. Opie just nodded guiltily.  
  
"What happened?" Race couldn't take the small talk at a time like this. Davy was always so middle-class.  
  
"Maybe we should get Ophelia inside first…"  
  
"Ya might 'ave some trouble wit' that. The house mother ain't so happy wit' Opie right now."  
  
"I'll discuss it with her. Ophelia needs some sleep."  
  
Race turned to Ophelia, "Ya okay little goirl?"  
  
He meant it as a term of endearment, she smiled and whispered a faint "Yes."  
  
David and Race helped her inside, and the lady of the house took over from there. They weren't allowed upstairs. David convinced the landlady to discuss Ophelia's rent after she woke up.  
  
David and Race stepped outside. It was a cloudy, humid, summer day. "Looks like a storm's coming in," David commented.  
  
"Sometin's gonna happen," Race agreed. "So tell me Davy-boy, what exactly happened wit' Opie?" 


	20. Changes

Mrs. Donnelly was in a tough position. She leaned the kitchen chair back on its back legs and balanced there. She should really have started dinner already, the girls should be coming home from the factories soon and would be starving. They often never got lunch breaks and the factories were hard dirty work, but when the bell rang at the end of the day, those poor girls ran home with energy that Mrs. Donnelly admired them for.  
  
She nervously chewed on dried spaghetti and remembered how her mother always told her she would crack her teeth that way. She had to make a decision about Ophelia before the girls came home. Mrs. Donnelly had to be strict about her rules or else her boarding house would come to resemble a brothel. Everyone in the house was aware of Ophelia's absence the night before. She had missed curfew, stayed out all night, and on top of that, she'd snuck out in the first place. And only God knows what she did last night! But from the looks of her when that nice young man brought her home, it seemed like maybe Ophelia had learned her lesson.  
  
Mrs. Donnelly was trying to convince herself to let Ophelia stay, but she knew she had to stand her ground. She couldn't be unfair to the girls who followed the rules. Ophelia had not been the best resident of her house. She always seemed to have a problem with authority. Mrs. Donnelly fingered the cigarette she had just rolled. A young lady can't afford to be headstrong in a world like this. Some man will undoubtedly beat her down into submission. Mrs. Donnelly knew that first hand. She lit her cigarette and wondered where else Ophelia could live.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Spot couldn't control himself around this girl. He hated her. Why was she trying to ruin his career? Why couldn't she just disappear like every other little slut that sticks around the gang too long? He briefly thought about trying some cement shoes on her, but then cleared his mind of anything that would earn him the wrath of Timmy Michelson. That was the real problem, Timmy was. Spot had Sadie pinned against the wall in a side closet above the Cloverleaf Pub. He was so angry, yet he didn't know how to proceed. Even alone, she had the backup of a professional boxer and his own boss.  
  
"I dunno how ya did it. Ya got Timmy da playboy droolin' ta get his mickey wet," he said shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
"Mr. Michelson does not want me!" Sadie was confused.  
  
"He sure don't go 'round 'elpin every goirl 'e comes across. Stop actin' so stupid."  
  
Sadie was quiet for a moment. "Are ye going ta hit me?"  
  
The question knocked Spot back into reality. He released her arm and backed up. What did he think he was doing? On second thought, he didn't really need to use Mush to rig the fights anymore. This was way too much drama to be going through, besides, he had made enough off this game. Maybe he could move into the crap games. He knew of this little trick who made her way around with the crap players… He looked up at Sadie, who was pale, which made her freckles show much more. Her red curly hair hid one of her big green eyes. He could see why Timmy and Mush wanted her so badly, he couldn't put his finger on it, but this girl had some very desirable feature.  
  
"Go home an' stay away from me."  
  
"But… are ye…"  
  
"Just go! I won't mess wit' ya precious Mush no more if ya just move ya ass out!"  
  
Sadie scooted out of the closet the best she could without touching Spot. As she disappeared down the stairs, Spot sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow. After he knocked off that barber tonight, he was going to get real drunk.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jacob was in a genuinely good mood. He awoke around noon without having to shoo the little slut away since she had run off the night before. He hadn't had a girl that tight in what? Years? She was a good lay, but she was no good now. What good is an inexperienced girl unless she was a virgin? He remembered his college days when he and his buddies had an ongoing competition to see how many virgins they could corrupt. He hadn't won, but he had some fierce competition in his Spanish friend from Navarre, who could write poetry to make a woman melt. He was smiling and daydreaming when the servants brought him his breakfast.  
  
He looked at the newspaper and noticed his and George's little rouse was still on the front page. The two million they had skimmed off the stock market had paid some of his debts. Maybe if he was really nice to his wife, she'd help pay for them.  
  
Maybe he could invite her to New York City. She had a mansion up in Tarrytown that he'd like to visit, but he wasn't usually welcome by her family without her. To add to the confusion, he'd been hearing rumors that she was considering divorcing him for his cousin. He'd welcome the divorce if it wouldn't leave him broke. Maybe this scam with George Gould, her brother, would make him a little more money, and she could be granted her divorce.  
  
It was a sunny day. "How lovely," he said aloud as he leaned back into his plush leather chair and relived the night before in his mind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
When she woke up, she realized it really wasn't a dream. She had lived out her worst nightmare last night. All in one fell swoop, she lost her innocence, her chance at finding a decent husband, her chance with Race, her home, and, to top it off, got totally humiliated by a conniving married man.  
  
Ophelia was torn between her hate for the count and disbelief that he had just chucked her so easily. She couldn't believe that that meant absolutely nothing to him! She cringed when she repeated the scene over and over in her head. She'd actually screamed when he told he already had a wife.  
  
Tears ran down her cheeks as she sat on her bed with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Where would she go now? She was scared to go downstairs and face Mrs. Donnelly. Race was sure to turn her away now, after all, he'd tried to save her and she'd denied him. Maybe she should have jumped off the bridge. That boy who saved her was downright amazing. Maybe he would take care of her. No, he wouldn't, not after what she'd already put him through.  
  
Maybe she'd sign up for the mail order bride program after all….  
  
(Hey- just a note to all my readers: Thanks so much for your responses! I love reading what you think! Let me know whether or not you like where I'm going with the story. Oh, and Gypsy, I have that Scoth-Irish temper too. We rock! Anyway, you guys are the reason I'm still writing, so please keep up with me! ) 


	21. uhoh

It was one of her roommates that gave her the news that she was being dismissed from Mrs. Donnelly's boarding house. Two others came to help her pack her things while Ophelia cowered in the corner whimpering, wondering where she could go.  
  
Mrs. Donnelly sat downstairs chain smoking at the kitchen table and refused to speak with anyone. As the clock ticked, the young boarders tiptoed around the house whispering and waiting to see who would relent first.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Race finally found Mush in the alley next to their apartment building beating the shit out of a sand-filled burlap bag.  
  
"Shit… I fergot 'bout the fight tomorrow…." He ran his fingers through his thick hair. His head was pounding from the day's events, and he hadn't slept in over two days.  
  
"S'okay," Mush breathed as he slammed his right fist into the bag again.  
  
"Sumptin wrong Mushy-boy?" Race asked as he patted Mush on the back.  
  
"Got swindled inta 'elpin da Mannigan boys tonight," Mush stopped hitting the punching bag and kicked at a rat that was trying to sneak by them.  
  
"Dat Timmy Michelson is trouble I hear," Race commented as he lit his freshly stolen cigar. "What's he got ya doin'?"  
  
"Meetin' wit' Spot ta scare some barbar that's been causin' trouble in dere neighborhood. Gonna take all my energy not ta beat da shit outta Spot instead."  
  
"Wanna drag?" Race asked as he offered Mush his cigar. Mush nodded and took a puff of it.  
  
"I gotta get ta da west side ta meet Spot." Mush offered his hand and Race spit in his and they shook before Mush walked out of the lighted street and into the shadows beyond.  
  
Rounding the corner to the front of the apartment building, Race noticed a lone girl arguing with one of the tenants. He recognized her as one of Ophelia's friends from work. "Hey Kathryn!"  
  
The girl stopped talking and turned and squinted at Race. Once she recognized him, she ran to him. "You have ta come ta the house. Mrs. Donnelly made up her mind. She's kicking Ophelia out! You gotta do somethin'!"  
  
"Calm down kid. I'm on my way. But go ta da pub down da street and tell Kid Blink ta get his butt to da boarding house. Tell 'im Race said so."  
  
She thanked him and leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, then ran down the street towards the pub.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Mush cursed to himself the whole way to bar he was supposed to meet Spot at. Spot sat outside the bar on a wooden crate nursing a pint of beer. He looked up and nodded at Mush. He couldn't rightly make eye contact with Mush after that afternoon's confrontation with his girlfriend.  
  
Mush leaned against the wall next to Spot. "So where we gotta go?" he stuffed his hands in his pockets.  
  
Spot took another sip of his ale. "Ten blocks down. It's 'bout supper time. Good time ta scare 'em."  
  
Mush was confused. "Ya mean in front a his family??"  
  
Spot just nodded. Mush felt the blood rush to his face, but tried to restrain himself. "Let's jus' go get dis over wit'," he said and started in the direction Spot had pointed earlier. Spot jumped up and caught up with Mush.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Mrs. Donnelly didn't even put up a fight with Race as he started up the stairs to Ophelia's room. He'd never been upstairs before, but some girls quietly pointed him in the direction of her room. One of her roommates was trying to convince Ophelia to get up off the floor when he walked in. When she saw him enter, she quickly left the room for she knew the consequences of being in one of the bedrooms with a boy. Ophelia remained where she was, curled up in fetal position on the floor, her face buried in her arms.  
  
"Opie? Hey," hey said softly.  
  
Ophelia looked up, her eyes were huge with shock and confusion. But instead of saying anything, she threw up her arms to him as a child would to its mother. Race kneeled down in front of her and embraced her, at the same time picking her up and setting her on her feet. She held onto him tightly enough that he had to loosen her arms to breathe properly. He smoothed down her shiny black hair and just held her as she sobbed onto his shoulder.  
  
"Isn't dis a purty sight?" a voice interrupted. They both turned to see Blink standing in the doorway. "Ya sent fer me?" he said with a smirk and a slight bow.  
  
"Yeah," Race said. "Can ya grab her bags? We're gonna put her up in my apartment until we find a new place fer her."  
  
Ophelia gasped. She was still at a loss for words. Race was coming to save her!  
  
Blink carried her two carpetbags out the front door, while Race helped Ophelia out. Before leaving, he turned to Mrs. Donnelly, who was looming in the hallway, and winked. She smiled and nodded at him, "Ya take of dat girl, ya hear me?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Spot thought maybe they should have brought more people along with them, but never questioned his boss, especially lately since he hadn't yet been chastised for fixing those fights. He hoped maybe they'd overlook it if he did everything else right.  
  
Mush didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, but that was fine with Spot, who was feeling somewhat guilty about threatening Sadie earlier. He figured she wouldn't tell Mush, but one can't be too careful – especially when girls were involved. They reached the building with the barbershop on the first floor and the barber's apartment on the second, and Spot pulled Mush into the shadows.  
  
"What's da plan?" Mush whispered.  
  
"Here take dis," Spot handed him a broken pipe, "Jus' break some windows, throw some shit around. Dis ain't nuttin big. I'll run in and leave dis note from da big boss, den we leave. Quick an easy."  
  
"Where should we meet if sumptin goes wrong?" Mush asked.  
  
"Meet at da same tavern. Ready?"  
  
"Ready."  
  
The two young men stormed the barbershop. Mush shattered the two large front windows with the pipe. Spot broke the front door with a metal bar, and kicked it in. Inside, he pushed over the heavy barber chairs. Before Mush even made it through the doorway, they were both stopped by a gunshot. They both froze like deer in headlights.  
  
Spot dropped his boss's letter to the barber on the floor and escaped through the broken window. He was three blocks away before a he realized Mush wasn't behind him. 


	22. short but there will be more real soon!

The sun seemed to rise too quickly that morning, pulling the humidity level up with it as it peeked just above the ten story high rise buildings in Manhattan. The early morning fog settled into a steamy mist that wafted up through the alleys and muddy roads. Several men in soiled shirts and three- day beards pulled ropes up around four posts strategically placed to the side of a main street. Soon, a small crowd of ruffians, the poor, the unemployed, and the gambling addicts had gathered.  
  
Racetrack Higgins was noticeably anxious as he paced back and forth along one side of the boxing ring. The final fight was about to begin and his prize fighter, and his best friend, was missing. There was nothing left to do but wait. If Mush didn't show, then the win was relinquished to the competition, the championship lost by default. Race bit his thumbnail until there was no more thumbnail left to chew. As the businessmen from the stock market curiously strutted by, Race felt his heart sink into his stomach. He knew Mush wasn't coming. He knew something was very wrong.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Timmy Michelson swaggered right into Joseph Pullitzer's office as if it were his own. He would undoubtedly own this city before his thirty-fifth birthday, and might as well make sure everyone knew. Pullitzer sat behind his large cherry desk. The room was filled with priceless furniture and surrounded by wooden paneled walls.  
  
"I 'ave a story fer you," Timmy announced.  
  
"Oh? Show me." He cocked one eyebrow and reached out for a report or a newpaper apparently, but his eyes were bad and he grabbed at air.  
  
"I dunnae 'ave a report fer you. I 'ave a story. I know who stole all the money from the stock exchange last week. And I even 'ave a witness." He patted Sadie on the back hard and she almost lost her footing.  
  
"Oh, a witness eh? Who is it? Who are you? Come closer. I'm an old man, I can't see ya."  
  
Sadie leaned in closer, full well that he couldn't see her anyway. "Sadie, sir."  
  
"Sadie? Ya brought me a greenhorn with an accent like a Scotsman in here and expect me to use her as a reliable witness. She's probably some dim- witted hooker who's looking for money." He turned to Sadie, "Don't you think I'm giving you a penny. Now scat you little girl. Go on!"  
  
Timmy interrupted, "She is my fiancé Mr. Pullitzer, surely you are not insinuating that my future bride is a lying prostitute…"  
  
Pullitzer sat for a few seconds pondering this unexpected arrangement. "Alright. Alright." He turned to his manservant, "Get me Shelton. Let him interview the lady. I want the story out for tomorrow's edition." He peered through his thick spectacles at where Sadie was standing.  
  
Timmy nodded to the servant. "Thank ya. Darlin' follow me. We've got a story ta tell. I appreciate yer time Mr. Pullitzer. 'Ave a wonderful day." 


	23. ok, I'm almost done...

Spot was perched at the end of his favorite pier in Brooklyn. He found that sometimes going somewhere familiar cleared his head. He'd been drinking since the night before, and slowly sloshed the warm beer in the bottom of his last bottle around, trying to keep it just a few minutes longer. The day was hot, the seagulls flew in lazy circles over his head. Young newsies splashed in the water below. To his surprise, none of the new generation recognized him, but he smiled to himself thinking that maybe they thought Spot Conlon was just a legend. Yup, he was a legend.  
  
A legend like Mush might have been if he had made it out of the barber shop last night, he thought as he downed the rest of his drink. He doubted that Mush was still alive. And for once he was at a loss for what to do. When he was the head of the Brooklyn newsies, he always knew what to do to get a friend out of a rut, he could always swing a jail bust, or get some gambling addict out of his debt. But this, maybe he had gone too far. Spot briefly thought about leaving New York altogether, maybe go to another city like Chicago or Washington D.C., but his thoughts were interrupted when he felt someone sit down next to him with an exhaustive thud.  
  
Spot nodded and took a hit off his cigarette. "Hey Race."  
  
Race didn't answer. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his clothes soaken through from the heat. Together they stared out at the East River and said nothing.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Count Jacob Castellane descended the stairs of his townhouse, and put on his top hat. It is a hot day, he thought. He had some last minute business with his partner in crime, Peter Gould. Jacob and Peter had scraped 2 millon dollars off the stock market under their alias, and Jacob had already spent his share. Now that the bills were coming in, Jacob was forced to try and squeeze the money from that tightwad Peter. As always, Peter was not in his office, not at home, not at the apartment he kept with his mistress, but at the racetrack. Jacob felt a bolt of fear run through him as he thought that Peter may have lost their money on a horse. He quickened his pace, and found Peter lounging in his box seats, very prissily eating finger sandwiches.  
  
"Why good day Mounsier Castellane!" Peter greeted him.  
  
"Good day, Peter."  
  
"Would you care for some cakes and tea?"  
  
"No, but I do have a business matter I'd like to speak with you over."  
  
Peter looked concerned for a second, but then waved it away. "Not today Castellane. Not today. I am taking a day off today. Maybe we can set something up tomorrow. Do you know my secretary Carol?"  
  
Jacob walked off hastily. He wasn't used to being put off, especially by arrogant Americans.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was late afternoon when Sadie finally escaped her interviewer. When she stepped out of Pullitzer's office, she took a deep breath. She was really nervous that she might have said the wrong thing.  
  
Timmy had left hours ago, on a "business" call no doubt. Thank God though, now Sadie had a chance to wander the streets alone, maybe do something she wanted to do. And she wanted to see Mush.  
  
Had he won the fight? Was her boyfriend the champion boxer of New York City? Where was he now? Would he be celebrating or would he be needing some comforting? And where should she go to find him?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"What do ye mean ya donno where 'e is?!"  
  
"Listen Timmy."  
  
"No, you listen ta me kid! You ain't nothin' but a snivelin' little bookie who cain't even do dat right!" Timmy spit.  
  
"Me? An' you'se da one who put 'im out dere ta git killed 'cause you want his pretty lil' girl," Spot stared at Timmy straight in the eye.  
  
Timmy swung at this comment, but Spot avoided the punch and caught the back of Timmy's knee with his foot. This move brought Timmy to his knees, but he was quick to his feet. "Ya little.."  
  
Spot brought up his trusty cane, ready to swing it like a baseball bat. "I ain't said nothin' dat ain't true. Mush was one o' me boys! I don't give a fuck 'bout you an' your 'family'"  
  
"Good, 'cause dey ain't gonna care 'bout ya no more either." Timmy threatened, but kept his distance due to the metal handle on Spot's cane. "Watch yaself boy. Might be smart ta leave town tonight. An' ya go near de lass, and I will kill you."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Race came home at dusk. He couldn't speak, he didn't want to drink, the only thing he could take into his body were the two bags of tobacco he bought earlier. He climbed to his bunk while his other roommates argued or gambled around him.  
  
One roommate noticed him. "Opie's gone. She borrowed some black clothes an' went out like a hour ago," he didn't take his eyes off his playing cards.  
  
"Opie? In my clothes?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
Wonder what she's up to, he thought. But fatigue took him over before he could think anymore and he drifted to sleep without even taking off his shoes. 


	24. ok, I'm not almost done then ;o)

Sadie couldn't find Mush anywhere. She exhausted every alley he praticed his fighting in, every bar in the vicinity, and his roommates hadn't seen him nor did they seem to care where he was. She had been frantic for a few hours after the sun went down, but it gave way to anger, worry, denial, and finally breakdown.  
  
For no particular explanation, except maybe the same reason cats always come home eventually, Sadie found her way into the garden behind the Count's house. In her dreamy existence, she was certain that Mush was there waiting for her. Naturally, he would be there where they first kissed wondering why she hadn't figured it out earlier. She could fall asleep in his lap as he told her about his winning match and how he was the champion boxer in all of New York City.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ophelia was trying to breathe softly, but her heart was pounding fast and she was certain that they could hear it. But no one seemed to notice her presence. She had scurried in the back door behind the ice-boy who was carrying a block of ice to the kitchen, and he was whistling loudly enough that he didn't sense her shadowing him through the door. Now she crouched in a storage closet and prayed that no one would need the extra tables and chairs that shared her company.  
  
She was focused now. The days she spent in anticipation and nervous planning ceased to exist. The morning hanging beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, mere seconds from death, vanished from her memory. But the night he took her innocence; the night he made a fool of her; the night he ruined her life; that she remembered. And all the contempt, the disparagement, the condescension that she felt had dissolved into loathing.  
  
Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, she had borrowed some of Race's dark clothes to blend in with the shadows, and she ran on pure adreniline. There was no turning back. The thought of not going through with this had not yet entered her mind. She was determined to make him pay. How dare he treat her like a common slut? How could he act with such audacity? He would never underestimate her again.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Sir! I have dire news!" the young man stammered as he entered Peter Gould's grand living room.  
  
Peter looked up from him game of chess irritably. "What?" he growled.  
  
"News, sir. I mean, THE news! Tomorrow's paper.. It. it uncovers your.. Business venture. Sir," the young man said attempting to place the right words for 'devious plot.'  
  
Peter rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair. "I apologize dear Mr. Allen," he motioned to his chess opponent, "I am afraid I have some important business to attend to." He quickly stood and bid adieu to his friend and grabbed the young man, and literally dragged him into his private office.  
  
"Talk about killing the messenger," the young assistant mumbled.  
  
"You shut up," Peter bellowed. "Tell me everything you know."  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Spot awoke to strange sounds around his room. New York was a loud city, but Spot knew the difference between everyday noises and suspicious creaks near his windows and doors. After all, he hadn't made it to be a 22 year old without learning a thing or two about survival.  
  
He heard another squeak on the old wooden floors in the hallway. As quietly as he could, he rolled out of bed, and kneeled to his floor. In two swift movements, he sprang across his floor to his doorway. There he waited, his steel tipped cane ready for whatever came next.  
  
He didn't have to wait long before his door began to silently open towards him. His heart began to beat faster as his raised his cane in preparation. He paused to try and figure out where would be his best shot. The door opened further and Spot was sure there was only one intruder. As the shadow entered, Spot swung his cane and caught the trespasser smack in the face. As the heavy body fell to the floor, Spot threw one leg over his large frame and held his cane to the man's throat.  
  
"Mutsy?" A glint of steel caught the corner of Spot's eye, and he saw the knife that his old pal had dropped when he fell. His buddy, his big gorilla-like friend, was trying to kill him! His face was bleeding. Spot was sure he broke the man's nose.  
  
"Git of me ya son of a."  
  
Spot tighted the cane against Mutsy's throat. "Who sent ya? Timmy send ya?"  
  
"I'll kill ya."  
  
Spot knew he didn't have much time before Mutsy regained his composure. "What's dis about?"  
  
"Timmy don't t'ink ya on our side no more. Fuckin' traitor. I'll kill ya."  
  
"Traitor?"  
  
"Ya set us up. You let da odder kid get killt. Dey know it was us now. Dey's afta us now."  
  
Spot's mind was reeling. Of course they knew it was us, we left the note. Timmy made us leave da note. Mutsy didn't know da whole story. Me and Mush were set up! We was both supposed to die!  
  
Spot jabbed the head of the cane into Mutsy's forehead and knocked him out. He used his carefully planned out escape procedure to get out of the building without being seen. He knew they wouldn't send out Mutsy alone. As he ran across the roof of the neighboring building, he tried to think of what he had to do next, worn down by the thought of Timmy's betrayal and the reality of Mush's demise. 


	25. Give me suggestions! I need to make a d...

"We will have to dispose of him." Peter Gould exhaled. "He's a worthless French priss. He will sing to the police at first sight of tomorrow's paper," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
"What shall I do then?" the young man who brought forth the bad news asked.  
  
"It will have to be done tonight. I will handle it from here." He glanced around nervously. "Don't breathe a word of this to anyone. Goodnight."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sadie rocked back and forth on the stone bench in the Count's back yard. It was approaching the wee hours of the morning, and she felt a chill down her spine. Still, she couldn't make herself move for she knew something was very wrong, and she was afraid to find out what.  
  
When the count himself appeared in the garden with her, she nearly fainted. Maybe if she didn't move, he would overlook her. Would he have her arrested for trespassing? Did he know she ratted him out to the newspaper? How could this day get worse?  
  
But he didn't seem to see her. He smoked something that she did not recognize as a cigar and looked up at the sky. After her first run-in with the count, Mush had given her his switchblade to carry with her. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out. Just in case.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Race! WAKE UP!"  
  
Race was jerked out of a dreamless sleep just to be thrown on the floor. He scrambled to his feet and prepared to beat the shit out of whoever woke him. His eyes finally focused on Spot, then he rubbed them. Spot looked disheveled and kept looking nervously over his shoulder. "Shit. What now?"  
  
"They set us up. Those Bastards set us up," Spot's hand shook as he took a drag from his hastily made cigarette.  
  
"What? Who?"  
  
"Where's Mush's girl? She still at Timmy's?"  
  
"Shit. Shit. I fergot about her. Shit. She don't know 'bout Mush," Race shook his head and tried to clear the sleep out of it.  
  
Spot grabbed Race's shoulders and shook him. One of Race's roommates threw a pillow at him. Spot lowered his voice. "We 'ave ta find 'er. I t'ink she's our only bargaining chip wit' da Mannigans now. Timmy's attached ta 'er or sumptin'."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ophelia barely got caught when he brushed past her to go out to the back garden. Instead of attacking him, she hid like a frightened child. She needed to do this right. She couldn't leave this job half done. She owed him.  
  
She made her way back to the back door. She hid in the heavy curtains and peered out the window at him. She saw someone else out there with him. Except she wasn't sure he saw the other person. She squinted to see who it was. Is that Sadie, Mush's giorl? she thought. What is she doin' 'ere? Does she know somethin'?  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jacob needed air. He also needed money. He thought maybe he could ship the kids back to him, and save that money for boarding school. Nannies are cheap. He smoked a lot these days, and drank even more. This morning, he had started drinking at noon. As long as it is after noon, it is acceptable. In France, they drink more than they do here, he thought. But his father warned him of the harder liquor, and he had not heeded the advice.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sadie felt another presence in the garden. At first guess, she thought Mush had finally come, but then she returned to her senses. The newest presence was no doubt a professional burglar. She saw the shadow clear the brick wall and land almost noiselessly in the bushes. As the back garden got too crowded, Sadie made a decision to flee for her life. If the count wanted to confront her for her trespassing, he would have done so already. And now this new person in the bushes. Sadie got up and headed for the back gate. 


	26. geez, where did I go?

As David stepped out of Peter Gould's house with directions to "get rid of Jacob Castellane," he felt so overwhelmed, he thought he might drop. His job was not to kill people, he was a legal clerk! He swallowed the vomit that was threatening to come up his throat.  
  
"I guess it would be dumb to ask directions to his house," he mumbled to himself as he headed toward 5th Avenue.  
  
He circled the house twice before gathering enough courage to go in. He decided on the least invasive entry, and climbed the stone wall that bordered the gardens. He was pleasantly surprised to land noiselessly in a patch of mud. And slightly more surprised that he was glad to land in mud.  
  
Before he could even survey his position within the walls, he had to stop shaking. David closed his eyes and leaned up against the cool damp wall, and prayed for courage. And to stop the damn shaking.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sadie's luck had run out. Whoever had just jumped the wall had landed between her and the gate. She certainly couldn't afford to attract any attention to herself. The count already wanted to kill her, and now this suspicious man in the bushes.. She sunk to the ground in defeat and pressed her face into her dirty hands. She knew then that Mush was dead. She knew then that she'd be caught trespassing here. She knew then that it was all over.  
  
The count snapped out of his daydream when he heard her hit the ground. He defensively brought his hand to his pistol as he rounded a boxwood, and came upon the pitiful sight. Relaxing his hand, he grinned wickedly, "Come back for more, did you?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
David had always been raised a gentleman, so the presence of this girl made the idea more disturbing to him. A lady should never have to see such atrocities. He fumbled with the pistol Gould had given him. Maybe if he waited for a few minutes, she'd go back inside.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ophelia slipped outside when the count crossed to the back gate of the garden. She focused on his back and tried to stay silent. He was speaking to Mush's girlfriend, but she only heard a word here and there. She moved closer.  
  
".up..stop..trespassing..whore.."  
  
At the word "whore," something snapped inside her and she pulled her dagger. She took half a step towards the count, when suddenly she was in mid air. Something gagged her and pulled her backward. She fell on her back, on top of someone, rolled forward over herself, and landed back on her knees - looking down at Race, who was still on his back in front of her. But before either could speak, a gunshot fired. Smoke filled the small garden.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
David was bleeding, but in his shock, he couldn't figure out what was bleeding. He has seen Castellane turn and look him straight in the eye before pulling out his gun and firing.  
  
Why wasn't I ready? Who would shoot in front of a lady? And where the hell am I bleeding from? He focused enough to figure out it was just his shoulder.  
  
Now how the hell was he going to get out alive?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Whoever was in the bushes was undoubtedly with this wench, the count assumed. He grabbed Sadie by her arm. "Is that your boyfriend? He tries to protect your reputation? Ha!" he spoke in his thick French accent.  
  
Mush. Mush was dead. Otherwise he'd be here. What is there left to lose? If she was going to die, she most certainly wasn't going to die a coward. Sadie's eyes dried.  
  
She pulled her arm from the count. She tore open her blouse, so only her corset was left covering her. She put her hand over the count's and pulled the cold steel of the gun's muzzle to her bare skin.  
  
"Shoot me, you son of a bitch." She met his eyes. "I said shoot!" she screamed into his face.  
  
"You so much as scratch 'er an' you'll wish I 'ad already killed ya," a voice came from somewhere in the smoke filled garden.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Spot didn't have a gun. But if this bastard shot Sadie, he wouldn't need one. They would find the count's body floating unceremoniously down the Hudson. "Didja 'ear me?"  
  
But the count wasn't looking at either Sadie or him. Spot recognized the bright wide eyed look of pure fear in Castellane's eyes. The second shot surprised him, and he dove, taking Sadie down with him.  
  
He half expected to see Timmy appear out of the smoke. He would never have expected to see who he did see, with a smoking gun, and wild eyes.  
  
"My God! Davey!"  
  
Spot watched in utter confusion and awe as David, bloody and limping, walked over to the count, who laid on the ground just a few feet away. David spit on Castellane's body and said, "Glad I got to do the honors."  
  
"Shit! You guys! We got to get the fuck out of here!" Race chimed in.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	27. I couldn't keep Spot as a bad guy I jus...

It was nothing short of a miracle that Race, Spot, David, Sadie, and Opie made it out of the Count's garden both alive and without a police escort. Spot led the way through alleys, fire escapes, and drainage ditches (just in case there were blood hounds, he explained). Anger and frustration drove him and he thought of ways to get his revenge on Timmy Michelson and the rest of the gang.  
  
Opie and David followed close behind him. She had torn part of her underskirt for a makeshift sling for David, and she held his arm to help him move along at Spot's quick pace. The whole scene was unreal to her. She couldn't believe this man had saved her twice now. Maybe he hadn't saved her life tonight, but he carried out her revenge for her, and that was something. And he had saved her life on the Brooklyn bridge. Maybe this was a sign. David was cute with those sparkling blue eyes and curly brown hair. He winced as he waded through the knee deep water Spot had them trudging through. Opie leaned in and held his arm tighter. "Everythin' is gonna be alright," she whispered.  
  
David wasn't sure what was keeping him moving at this point. Most of his upper body had gone numb, and it seemed like he had lost a lot of blood. He felt faint, but he couldn't let this be the end of him. He had tried too hard to drown in a puddle of sewage in the slums of New York. He had put himself through school, and become a legal clerk. He wanted a family and a comfortable life. And he wanted what was owed him for this hit.  
  
Sadie trudged along slowly behind the first three. She had come so close to death, yet it didn't seem to phase her. She had wanted the count to shoot her. It was that man's fault that Mush was dead. She wasn't sure how, but at least if it weren't for the count, she would never have met Mush. And he would still be alive. She hated America, and for the first time, she just wanted to go home.  
  
Race held up the end of the line, acting as a look out. He wasn't sure where Spot was taking them, but he hoped it wasn't his apartment. He had no doubt that one of his roommates would turn them in for a quarter. Race noticed that the gap between the first three and Sadie widened, that she was slowing down. He came up next to her and threw him arm around her. "Ya doin' okay goirly?"  
  
She looked at him, and the sight of her face shocked him. She looked pale as a ghost. "He's dead, isn't he?"  
  
Race confirmed it with a slight nod. He squeezed her a little tighter. "We need ta move."  
  
Spot finally stopped their trek in Brooklyn, at the old Brooklyn newsies boarding house. The building had been condemned since the year before, something most people attributed to the newsies under Spot's leadership. Spot used his cane to break a boarded up basement window. He turned to the group, who were all exhausted, rank, and muddy, "We'll stay da rest of da night hea."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Race walked towards the local water spout. The sun had just started to come up, and he was sure that the girls would want some water to wash off with. He whistled while he walked, and thought of what could happen next. There were no witnesses, and how could anyone pin any of them to the crime? Opie had a motive, but he hadn't let her do it. No one could figure out why Davey did it, but Race had a sneaking suspicion that Davey wanted to defend Opie's values. Davey had always been so chivalrous.  
  
He filled the bathing tub as full as he could, and started back. Part of the reason he offered to take this errand was to avoid telling Sadie about Mush. Maybe Spot would tell her while he was gone.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
From the looks of it, the bullet had gone straight through his shoulder, so all they could really do now was keep it clean and try to slow the bleeding. Opie waited impatiently for Race to return. She paced back and forth in the dingy basement room, while David lay passed out on an old mattress.  
  
Spot was perched on a window sill across the room, trying to determine if they should try to keep Davey awake. He might not be able to forgive himself if he let two of his old buddies die under his care. The thought of Mush's untimely death brought him back to his senses. He hopped off the window ledge and edged closer to Sadie, who sat in a corner and made designs in the dirt floor with a stick.  
  
"Mind if I join ya?" Sadie didn't respond, so he sat down. "I guess ya should know. Timmy set us up. Mush was jus' tryin' ta 'elp, ya know.  
  
"How come you're still alive?" she accused.  
  
Spot put his head down. "'Cause I'm a coward. I ran."  
  
Tear welled up in her eyes as she looked at Spot. "'e was the only truly kind man I have ever known."  
  
Spot grabbed her and pulled her to him. She held on to him tightly, digging her nails into his back. Ophelia, who had stopped pacing to hear the conversation suddenly spoke. "Mush is dead?" she asked, horrified.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
When Race brought back the water, the concious part of the group was all in tears. He comforted the girls the best he could, and then offered that they go clean up in another room. As they left the room, Race and Spot cleaned David's wounds. He mumbled and grit his teeth while they wrapped the wound.  
  
Now all they could do was wait. Wait and read the papes. There was a good chance they would all come out in the clear. 


End file.
